Devotion
by Sierra Nicole
Summary: What kind of woman would marry, and stay married to a man like Lucius Malfoy? A devoted wife and mother, Narcissa has embraced the life that Fate has given her, even if sometimes it seems like a cruel joke.
1. Precious

Author's Note: Harry Potter and all related characters and indicia are copyright of J.K. Rowling. I haven't yet introduced my own (though they are on the way). Beaucoup thanks to my beta, Animagus_Steph, for thoroughly ingesting the canon and being able to look up details so quickly.

Narcissa Malfoy studied her reflection in the mirror. She carefully made sure that no hair was out of place, and that her makeup was not smudged in the least bit. She used enough magic on her face already that she took a certain amount of pleasure from applying her makeup by hand, "the Muggle way," as Lucius called it, and she knew it only angered him more whenever she did so.

She paid particular attention to her left eye, which had been healing nicely, but was still too obvious to be seen in public without the aid of healing spells and a little glamour she had learned early in her marriage to Lucius. It had certainly come in handy over the years. She slowly and deliberately applied her lipstick, and winced when it came too close to the corner of her mouth. Glamour could hide the appearance of a swollen and bleeding lip, but not the pain. Well, the pain was her punishment for not pleasing her husband.

She wondered sometimes if she had _ever _pleased him. Her mind drifted over all the time she had spent with Lucius. Yes, she had made him happy, at least once, if only for a moment. And she supposed he had been pleased when she had given him Draco. Draco, her fine boy, who had been born strong and determined. Yet that wasn't entirely true. He had been strong and determined even before he was born. She could feel it, as she carried him, and she drew her strength from his. She had known he would be strong, and she had to be strong for him, stronger than she had been when she carried two babies before him, and stronger than she would be for another after. Draco alone had made her strong, strong enough that, however much he tried throughout her entire pregnancy, Lucius had not been able to weaken her and make her body reject his child. Not this time.

***

Narcissa had known the moment Draco was born that he would be her only child. Lucius would not let her have another, and she knew he would not change his mind, no matter how pleased he might be with this fine, perfect example of a firstborn son. Lucius had hardly known what do to with Draco as an infant. He had held him at the moment of his birth, long enough to acknowledge, 'This is my son,' and then he had none too gently given him back to Narcissa and swept out of the birthing room. 'You have difficult work ahead of you, my dear.'

Narcissa was all too happy to keep her boy away from his father. While she was pregnant, they had been able to feed off each other's strength, but now he had his own body, one entirely too easily hurt by what Lucius might consider 'simple' and 'trifling' discipline. Draco was her precious, and he went everywhere with her. As he grew, the vibrant blue of his eyes faded to his father's steely grey, and the crop of buttery curls he had had as an infant eventually fell out, to be replaced by Lucius' straight, platinum strands. Narcissa knew that her son would grow up to look exactly like his father. But as far as she was concerned, the similarities could end there. She was determined to teach her child love and kindness, things Lucius seemed to think solely the realm of fairy tales and addlepated schoolgirls. Most importantly, though, Narcissa had tried to instill into him self-control, compassion, and never to raise his hand against any woman. She was so intent on this instruction that she refused to physically discipline Draco. When he was feeling particularly petulant, there was a certain chair in her study that faced the corner, reserved especially for him in such occasions.

Draco was five, and seemed to finally be learning and understanding household do's and don'ts, when Lucius finally began to express an interest in the fact that he had a son. Lucius would come to Narcissa's study while she was reading to Draco, and watch from the doorway, correcting his wife on her choice of literature to which his son was to be exposed. He began offering to take Draco on walks around the garden, which Narcissa watched nervously from her bedroom window.

It was on one of these walks that Draco was unfortunately distracted by a butterfly. He pulled his tiny hand from his father's, and went chasing the insect across the garden. Not looking at his feet, he tripped over a planter box and fell headfirst into the cook's prized tomatoes. Draco at least had enough of his father in him not to cry over something as little as falling down. Lucius pulled him roughly out of the box, and took in his grubby face, and clothes streaked with dirt and bits of tomato. "You foolish child!" he yelled, and raised his hand.

Narcissa, who had seen the situation brewing from her window, came running out of the manor house and grabbed his arm in time to keep it from falling onto her unsuspecting child. Lucius, furious, rounded on her, bringing the metal snake's-head handle of his cane against her temple. Narcissa fell, which finally made Draco erupt in tears. Lucius knelt in the pathway and pulled Draco over his knee. "You have coddled this boy for too long. He must learn what it is to be a man, and above all, a Malfoy." Narcissa slipped into darkness, thankful that in the oblivion she could not hear the cries of her child.

***

Narcissa shook the memory from her mind, just one among so many, and returned to perfecting her appearance. They were taking Draco to King's Cross Station today, to leave for his first year at Hogwarts, and Lucius demanded perfection from her whenever she was to be seen in public, especially in his company. Narcissa tried not to think about the upcoming year, endlessly alone in the house with Lucius as she had not been in a very long time.

Hogwarts would be good for Draco, she knew. He needed more exposure to witches and wizards other than just the children of Lucius' friends. Narcissa shivered. _Lucius' friends_. She knew exactly what type of folk they were, and she was certain that she didn't want them getting their hands on her son. Tonight, Draco would be Sorted into his House. Narcissa wondered if he could even begin to contemplate how that would affect the rest of his life. She silently prayed that he would be placed anywhere _other_ than Slytherin. She knew how much Lucius wanted his son to be in his old House, and Draco would want to please his father, but if he were in a different House, maybe Lucius' hold on him would slip. Maybe Draco would be able to forge his own destiny. And _that_ was a prayer that had been on Narcissa's lips since the day she knew that he would survive to be born.

"They will _not _turn my son into a monster," she muttered as she pushed pearl drop earrings through her ears. _Like his father..._ her mind silently replied. She sighed. It was a thought she had been having with increased frequency for several years now. Ever since that day in the garden, Draco showed Lucius nothing but fearful reverence. Like most boys at that age, Draco had thought his father could do no wrong, so the fault must have been within himself. From that day forward, Draco strove to be everything Lucius could expect him to be. And every day Narcissa had watched her precious little boy slip away from her.

Her eyes began to sting as she thought of the moment the train would pull out of the station, taking Draco away from her for an entire year. She quickly batted her eyelids and forced herself to stop. Lucius would not be pleased by any show of excessive emotion when they parted with their son, and his definition of 'excessive' was roughly equivalent to 'any at all.' 

"Mother," Draco called impatiently from her doorway, "Father's getting quite irritated down in the parlor."

"Yes, of course, darling, I'm nearly done." She moved a few more imaginary strands of hair and pursed her lips, then with a wince thought better of it. She turned to her son, so frighteningly like his father in appearance and posture. "What do you think? Good enough to be seen with two such handsome men?" 

Draco rolled his eyes. "Mother..."

"No, I'm serious, Draco, how do I look?" She stood up, smoothing her skirt and tugging on the bottom of her grey and black pinstriped vest. She knew she looked the image of a successful Muggle businesswoman. Draco took in her clothes with an expression of apathy, but when his eyes came to her face, his eyes narrowed.

"You did it the Muggle way, didn't you?"

Her tone was chiding, "Draco, darling, you know how temperamental my wand is. Do you think I would trust my face today to anything other than my own hands?" Little did he know how much work her wand had done on her face, _before _the makeup. Draco raised an eyebrow as if not completely convinced, then shrugged and headed out the door. "Draco," she called, and he turned back around. "Darling, would you give me a hug before we go down and meet your father?"

He paused, and his steely grey eyes were considering. He looked as if he might agree, then almost visibly a wall went up and his voice changed to the condescending tone she had heard so often from Lucius. "Really, mother, I'm not your baby anymore," and he turned on his heel and walked down the hallway to the stairs.

Narcissa nearly choked in her effort to fight back her tears. She mechanically picked up her silver and black handbag, which was large enough to discreetly carry her wand, and followed Draco's footsteps down the stairs.

Lucius was indeed impatiently pacing in the parlor. He severely disliked the tediousness of driving to one's destination, but they could not Apparate with Draco and all of his things, and Floo Powder was out of the question. Lucius was certain that not everyone kept their fireplaces as immaculate as his. The Ministry kept a number of cars for cases like this, and Lucius had sent for one today. It had come with a driver, as he had demanded, and was a beautiful Rolls Royce Silver Cloud. The driver had already packed Draco's chest of school supplies into the trunk, and his eagle owl, Theodore, hooted pretentiously from his cage in the back seat.

"My dear," Lucius addressed her with clenched teeth and gave her a warning look. No matter how fearsome his mood, Narcissa could never help but think of what a handsome man he was. He stood with his hands thrust into the pockets of his charcoal grey trousers, and his matching overcoat was folded neatly over one arm. His silver-blonde hair fell past his shoulders and was tied back with a black silk ribbon. His skin was fair and the bones of his face were well-defined, and his lips... lips that she had seen twisted into the cruelest of sneers, and yet lips that could also make her knees go weak by just turning up a corner. _I remember kissing those lips, once,_ she reflected, _a long time ago..._

"Lucius," she replied with just the slightest smile as she walked over to him and grazed his cheek with her lips. He said nothing, but took her by the arm and led her out to the car. He opened the door for her and let her climb in first, leaving Draco to the driver's care. Draco wanted to have his owl in the front seat with him, so Narcissa and Lucius were left quite alone in the back seat. Her hand rested on his forearm where, under layers of coat and shirt, she knew an ugly black tattoo lay. She had seen it in its many phases, from dark, inky black to the faded blue-ish tint most Muggle tattoos acquired after a few years, to being almost invisible. The color, she had noticed, seemed to coincide with the waxing and waning of Voldemort's power. Ten years ago, it had been as dark as she had ever seen it, and it seemed to cause Lucius some pain, and then suddenly, on Samhain, it had all but disappeared. That was the night the whispers had begun, of The Boy Who Lived.

Lucius had not become a Death Eater until after they were married. Or rather, he had not received the Dark Mark. Narcissa felt that Lucius had been a Death Eater at heart every day of his life. Her gaze traveled down his arm to his hand, gloved as always. Sometimes she wondered if he wore the gloves because he truly believed that no gentleman would be seen in public with bare hands, or to hide his wedding band, as it had been quite the battle to get him to even accept the idea of wearing one. Narcissa thanked the memory of his mother for her intervention in that case. She suspected Lucius feared his mother in some way, and so had acquiesced under her insistence.

His ring did not match Narcissa's. He had chosen it by himself, and she had not seen it until their wedding, as she was placing it on his finger: a single platinum serpent that wound around his finger to swallow its own tail, with glittering emerald eyes that somehow always seemed to her to convey malice.

Narcissa's engagement ring had belonged to Lucius' mother, and was a family heirloom. It was a beautiful antique silver creation with filigree work all along the band, and holding a diamond Narcissa was sure glittered with magic as well as the cut. Her actual wedding band was quite simple in contrast: just a very thin platinum band, hardly noticeable by itself. Perhaps Lucius had intended it that way.

Seeming to suddenly realize she was touching him, Lucius pulled his arm back. "I do hope Draco develops none of your silly _romantic_ tendencies," he said the word as if it belonged in a foreign language. _For Lucius,_ she thought sadly, _it may as well be._

"There will be too little time for that once he's at Hogwarts, Lucius, I wouldn't worry about it," she replied.

"Good. The last thing we need is for him to get involved with some little Mudblood who shouldn't have been there in the first place. Ridiculous," he said, sneering out the window, "letting _them_ into the school..." Narcissa slowly tuned him out. She had heard his objections against having Muggle-born children enrolled at Hogwarts too many times to count. They dragged down the quality of education for all the proper witches and wizards there, he would say, or they contributed to the thinning and tainting of wizard blood by making purebloods fall in love with them. He almost hadn't let Draco attend Hogwarts, for just that reason. He had intended to send Draco to Durmstrang. But Narcissa couldn't bear the idea of her son being so far away, and she had pleaded with Lucius to let him go to Hogwarts. Lucius had agreed, but only after he had become one of the school governors, and so felt a little more comfortable with his son around the 'dangerously insane' Headmaster Dumbledore and his precious Mudbloods. "Well, in Slytherin he'll have no problems with that." Narcissa came back to herself when Lucius turned toward her again.

"Are you so certain that he'll be put in Slytherin, Lucius? That Sorting Hat seems so random at times," she said, hoping they would receive a letter from Draco tonight, proving her correct. Lucius gave her an incredulous look.

"My dear, every Malfoy who has attended Hogwarts has been in Slytherin. That is as firm as a law of nature." His eyes dared her to contradict him.

She shrank from his glare, as he expected her to. A corner of his mouth lifted in a self-pleased smirk, and he turned away from her and snapped open the Daily Prophet. There were far more important things to concern himself with than the emotions of the woman beside him.

Narcissa had learned that trick early. If she chose not to press an issue with him, he smiled as if he won some battle, and would go about his own business, quite ignoring her; which was far better than the alternative. Lucius would stand for no 'disrespect,' which included contrary opinions, and would do his utmost to exorcise such willful thoughts. Narcissa turned to her window and watched as the countryside turned almost seamlessly into suburbs, and then into the heart of London itself. She stopped watching after a while, as all that could be seen was dreary grey building after dreary grey building. Her eyes turned instead to her son in the front seat, reaching a finger through the bars of his owl's cage to pet the bird. 

She smiled at this rare glimpse of Draco's compassion. Lucius had not been able to destroy it all. Draco was only eleven, but already far more jaded and cynical than most people twice his age. Lucius had pushed him to excel in everything, and the tutor he had hired to teach Draco in their home had been instructed to teach two grades above where a child of Draco's age should have been. Draco was brilliant, Narcissa knew, but Lucius would also not stand for any overweening pride or showing off from his son. A truly powerful wizard, or any kind of gentleman, had no need for such vulgar displays of his abilities. _Well, Draco will prove himself at Hogwarts,_ Narcissa thought as the driver parked the car in front of King's Cross Station. The man scurried around the car to open doors for the family, then set to pulling Draco's chest out of the trunk as they stood stretching their legs and straightening their clothes.

Lucius tipped and dismissed the driver, then called to one of the attendants to load Draco's things onto a trolley and push it most of the way to platform 9 3/4. Once there, he carelessly handed the man a note, who left thanking him profusely and staring wide-eyed at the money in his hand. Lucius shook his head at the man's behavior. "Come along, Draco," he said as he offered his arm to Narcissa and began walking toward the barrier that led to the Hogwarts platform. With only a slight grumble, Draco set his small weight against the trolley and followed after his parents.

They stopped at a pillar that looked exactly like every other they had passed, but Draco, knowing already what was necessary, never stopped or slowed as he pushed his trolley into and through the brick column. Narcissa and Lucius followed him.

The bright red Hogwarts Express sat waiting on the tracks. The Malfoys had arrived in plenty of time to see Draco settled on the train before it left. So undignified to have to rush, Lucius would always say. Draco pushed his trolley down to the baggage car where a man was mechanically shrinking each trunk or chest to the size of a shoebox, then handing it up to a man inside the car who packed them neatly against the wall. Another man came and took Theodore's cage to another car, where there were hooks on the ceiling and arms extending from the walls to hold the cages for students' owls. Draco took his small leather satchel from his trolley before the baggage wizard could shrink it and looked excitedly at his parents.

"Can I change into my robes now?" Narcissa smiled and was about to tell him he could, when Lucius cleared his throat.

"On the train, Draco," he said with a raised eyebrow. Narcissa could hear him thinking, _Ridiculous, getting all excited over something as simple as wearing robes..._

"Yes, sir," Draco replied and lowered his head.

"Now, see that no Muggle-borns try to sit in your compartment," he instructed. "Find Crabbe and Goyle's boys and sit with them. They should be able to discourage any unwanted company."

Draco nodded, "Yes, sir." Lucius gave a curt nod of approval and held out his hand. Draco fumbled to switch the satchel over and shook his father's hand, with an expression that looked to Narcissa like he was trying to swallow a large lump in his throat. Her own eyes began to sting as Draco turned to her. "Mother," he said quietly.

She didn't trust her own voice, so she simply ran her fingers through his soft, silvery hair, and bent down to kiss his cheek. She felt his own lips touch her cheek, and then suddenly his arms were around her neck, hugging her fiercely. 

"I'm scared, mum," he whispered in her ear.

She rubbed a hand gently against his back and said, "You'll be fine, darling." She slowly pulled away from his arms so she could look at him. He was her boy again, but on the brink of growing up. She wished so much that she could stop time there and then, and keep him like that forever, but she knew she had to let go. She took a deep breath and gave him what she knew was a weak smile. "You write to me tonight when you're all settled in your House, all right?" She ran her fingertips over his face, wanting to memorize every detail. He nodded. "There's my lad," she said, and kissed his forehead. Draco smiled at her.

Lucius cleared his throat from beside her, and Draco quickly backed away, his smile fading instantly. He wiped at his forehead with his sleeve and moaned, "Mother, your makeup..." though they both knew her lipstick had left no mark.

"Off you go, Draco," Lucius said as Narcissa straightened back up. He held out his arm for her.

"Yes, sir," Draco answered, though his eyes kept darting between his parents as if to ask if this really was it. After a moment of hesitation, Narcissa slipped her hand through Lucius' arm, which Draco recognized as the sign that they really were leaving. He hesitated to watch their first few steps away, then he turned to the train and climbed into one of the passenger cars.

Lucius stopped them before the barrier and pulled out his wand. Narcissa followed suit and Apparated with him back to the mansion.

"Well, that's done with," Lucius said when they were both standing in their parlor. He handed his coat to a waiting servant. "You once more have the house to yourself, my dear," he called over his shoulder as he headed to his private study for a glass of cognac in his favorite chair.

Narcissa turned to the servant, who was waiting to be dismissed. "I'm a bit tired. I think I'll have my lunch late today, Rebecca. Please have the cook send some tea to my room." Rebecca nodded and bustled off. Narcissa climbed the stairs slowly, numbly. Her feet carried her to Draco's room.

It looked much the same as it always did, but was missing the boy. She sat down on the edge of the bed, and remembered how it had always seemed to dwarf him, no matter how much he grew. The top of his desk had been cleared, and presumably all the drawers, too. She walked over to his wardrobe, which still held the robes he hadn't taken to school: grey, blue, green, and black dress robes. She opened the drawers at the bottom and found his jumpers all neatly folded, most in the same colors as his robes, and a brown bit of fuzz sticking out from underneath one of the piles. 

With a smile, she pulled out the jumpers and set them aside, revealing an old and very loved teddy bear. The bear's face was flattened from the weight of the jumpers, but the fact that Draco had preferred hiding it here to leaving it out so his father could find it and throw it out with all his other stuffed animals, spoke of how much it had meant to him. The bear was simply called Teddy, and Narcissa suspected it had something to do with the fact that Draco had named his new owl Theodore. She laid the bear in her lap and put the jumpers back in the drawer, handling everything as if it were fine porcelain that would break with too much pressure.

She carried the bear to her room, where she found a tea tray ready and waiting for her. Out of habit, she poured herself a cup and set it on her nightstand. But she kicked off her shoes and lay down on the bed, with Draco's bear pressed close to her chest, and softly cried herself to sleep.


	2. Not Like This

****

Author notes: Big thanks to my beta, Animagus-steph, for linguistic help, and for pushing (begging) me to finish this chapter when I was stuck in the middle. 

Same requisite disclaimer: JKR and the publishers and movie studios own the canon stuff, the rest is mine. I'm not making any money from this, so if you sue me, you won't get much. Similarities between these characters and others elsewhere in the world of HP fanfiction are purely coincidental and not meant to offend. Rather, it's a very sincere form of flattery. So please don't get mad, and just enjoy the fic.

***

Narcissa Stirling had been a meek and eager-to-please nineteen-year-old when she first caught Lucius Malfoy's eye. He was twenty-four and already working for the Ministry, a handsome and powerful wizard. Her friends had been jealous and called her lucky for catching him. But the truth was... she had done nothing. She was far too frightened to approach him; the more so for the fact that the whole of wizarding Britain knew his family was looking to marry him off. She knew she would hardly be considered appropriate marriage material for the prestigious Malfoy family, so to avoid heartache, she shrank from him, and watched from afar as one witch after another -all beautiful and rich- threw themselves at him. He didn't seem to care. She never spoke to him, and was certain he knew nothing of her existence until the Ministry threw a Yule party, to which all employees were invited. She had gotten a job in the records office, keeping files straight and papers orderly, just to be relatively near him.

She was sitting at the bar, dejectedly nursing what was still her first drink, despite the hour being well past midnight, when Lucius Malfoy sat down next to her.

"I think you're the only woman here who hasn't asked me to dance. Why?" His grey-eyed gaze was demanding.

"I wouldn't presume..." she blushed furiously and looked down at her drink.

He put two strong fingers under her chin and pulled her face up to look at his. "Are you afraid of me, Miss Stirling?"

_He knows my name._ She nearly swooned. His stare was unrelenting, and she quailed inside at the intensity of it. But she straightened her back and shook her head resolutely. His lips curled into a devilish smile. She was certain she hadn't fooled him.

She was still captivated by the passion that spilled out of his every pore as he took her hand and led her to the very center of the dance floor. When she realized all the people looking at her, she blushed once again and tried to duck her head and pull away from Lucius, but his grip on her wrist was unbreakable.

"No need to feel bashful, my dear, you're dancing with me. You _can_ dance, can't you?" She looked up at him and he was still smiling, but it made her shiver to realize that it didn't touch his eyes. "Don't make me regret this," he whispered so only she could hear, and his fingers tightened around her wrist.

She whimpered slightly and nodded, knowing this was the only chance she'd ever have to be this close to him. The music began and she followed his steps perfectly, feeling every nuance of his fingers against her back, telling her which way to go. She fancied she saw a smile of real pleasure cross his face, as he realized that she would not cause him embarrassment after all. Her heart swelled with pride, knowing that she had done something to make him happy. _Maybe he'll remember me, somehow, when he's married and has children, he'll think of the wonderful dancer he met at a company party._ The thought made her even lighter on her feet, and he danced with her through the next three songs, hardly pausing to change rhythms. Everyone had stopped to watch the spectacle, but she didn't care. All she knew was Lucius' smile and the feel of his strong arm around her. Tongues were already wagging in the corners where the old spinster witches sat.

"Aren't they beautiful together?"

"She's rather plain, to me, not at all the kind of witch he's usually seen with,"

"Wonder what his family will think?"

"She must be a pureblood, or he wouldn't even be touching her."

"No problems with his family, then, that's all they care about,"

By the time they stopped dancing, they were both flushed and short of air, though Lucius tried to hide it. "Walk with me," he said as he began guiding her to the terrace doors. Unsure whether this was a request or a command, Narcissa just nodded and obeyed. They walked out the doors and into the garden, where the cool night air was a welcome relief for her burning lungs. Lucius didn't speak, and she wondered if he was waiting for her to say something.

"Thank you for the dances," she managed in a whisper.

"It was my pleasure," he replied, then suddenly pulled her behind a tree and into a kiss so passionate, she thought her legs had turned to jelly.

_Oh, gods, he's kissing me. _Lucius Malfoy _is kissing_ me. A moan escaped unbidden as she raised her hands to run her fingers through his silky blonde hair, as she had imagined so many times before. One of his hands was on her waist, pulling her against him, and the other was behind her neck, so she couldn't pull her head away, even if she had wanted to.

She didn't know how long they stood there, oblivious in their passion. All she knew was that it felt like eternity, drinking in the feel of him, his arms around her, her hands in his hair, the smell of his cologne, which blended so nicely with the taste of bourbon still on his tongue.

_Is he only doing this because he's drunk?_ she wondered. _Gods, I don't care. If he never remembers this, at least I will._

The eternity of their kiss turned into an all-too short moment when Lucius finally released her neck and pulled his lips away from hers. She kept her eyes closed for a little longer, afraid that when she opened them, it would all be a dream. Then she felt soft kisses on her eyelids and resolved to open them. The sight that met her was beyond her wildest dreams. There was Lucius Malfoy, in her arms and she in his, his face flushed and his eyes burning with passion. Part of her shrank from them, for it felt like he meant to devour her. He must have felt it in the tensing of her muscles, as he recovered himself and the fire dimmed instantly, though she could still see him fighting for control over it. 

"Don't worry," he leaned forward to breathe into her ear, "I'll only bite nicely."

"Gods," she moaned as she felt his teeth grazing her neck. Then her traitorous knees finally did give way, but before she could hit the ground, Lucius had scooped her up and was carrying her deeper into the garden.

He laid her down among violets, then took out his wand and walked in a circle around the area. When he returned to her, he nimbly flicked his wand and muttered, "_Obfusco_." The perimeter he had walked turned into the bottom edge of a dome, which glittered and sparkled for a split second, and then the night returned to normal. He returned his wand to his robes as he faced her again. "No one will see us here," he said softly. Or so she thought at first, for as she looked at him, he had all the apparent softness of a great hunting cat, about to strike. _Surely he doesn't intend..._

Her questions were answered as he slipped his robe from his shoulders. _Gods, I must be dreaming. This is too good._ She raised herself onto uncertain legs and walked over to him, and raised trembling hands to the top button of his shirt. He smirked in pleasant surprise and allowed her to undress him, then returned the favor. When their work was done, they stood for long moments, just looking at each other.

Lucius Malfoy was everything underneath his clothes that she had dreamed he would be, with the slight addition of silky platinum hair gracing the arch of his chest. She lightly ran her fingernails through it; he closed his eyes and smiled. The feel of his heart beating beneath her hand sent thrills throughout her body, and she couldn't help but gasp.

His eyes flew open again and, mistaking the goose bumps rising on her arms, said, "You're cold." She tried to protest, but he was already reaching into his pile of clothes for his wand. He pointed it at a low bush within their hidden area. "_Confinus inflammare_," and the bush popped into flame that miraculously didn't spread to anything else.

Upon seeing her concerned look, he began walking her back to the bed of violets. "If anyone tries looking for us here, their eyes will simply slip around this place, like trying to look past a mirror. They won't be able to see even the fire."

Narcissa desperately hoped so, for what happened next was something that should not be seen by any but those involved.

***

She awoke in the oddest place: a bed, and not hers. As she sat up, a crumpled violet fell out of her tangled hair. She was wearing only her slip and underthings, the robes she had been wearing the night before lay across the foot of the bed next to a silky white wrap. The bed was an ornate canopy creation, with silk sheets, an embroidered comforter, and lace curtains. She looked around the rest of the room, and found herself in what she thought must be a palace. The room held a vanity edged in gilt whose chair had a dainty lavender velvet cushion, a beautifully polished writing desk whose surface was empty except for a very small stack of fresh, white papers, and a wardrobe that took up an entire wall. She slid out of the bed and her feet landed in the deepest carpet she had ever felt. It was soft and white, and reminded her of Lucius' hair. _Lucius_... The events of the previous night came rushing back to her, and she crumpled back onto the bed with a dull ache in a very particular place that told her it had not all been a dream.

She lay on the bed for a few moments, willing the pain to stop or lessen. _Lucius_, her mind spoke over and over again, each time with a sense of wonder. _Good gods, I've had him._ _This must be his house. He must have brought me here after..._ her cheeks burned and she couldn't help but giggle. She pulled on the wrap at the foot of the bed, and slipped out the door to find Lucius. _To find my lover._

Narcissa walked down the length of the hallway, nothing in the house making any kind of sound, until she neared the very last door, through which she could hear voices. Knowing one of them must be Lucius, she smiled and crept closer to the door, but what she heard made her smile fall.

"Blood, I tell you, blood on me. It was disgusting. I had no idea she was..." Lucius' voice, and he sounded very frustrated.

"What do you intend to do with her, sir?" came a voice she didn't know, and one that didn't sound entirely human.

"I don't know," Lucius answered. "Oh, damn Fudge and his infernal bourbon!!" The sound of something glass being thrown against the wall met Narcissa's ears.

"I daresay, sir, unless you are planning on marrying this girl, she had better not be here when your parents arrive," the odd voice said.

"But how can I get rid of her? If she hadn't been... she'd be able to call it a good roll in the hay and leave it at that. But she'll cling..." Determined footsteps began pacing.

"A memory charm then, sir?"

"Yes. Yes, I'll do that." Narcissa heard a drawer opening and then the footsteps turned toward the door. She tried to retreat but there was nowhere she could go fast enough, and Lucius stepped through the doorway to find her huddled on the floor, clinging to the wainscoting. "It's for your own good, my dear," he said, shaking his head; "I'd make a terrible husband." He flicked his wand and commanded, "_Obliviate_!" and Narcissa braced herself for the robbery of her memories. 

But a slight sparkle from the tip of Lucius' wand was all that happened. He stepped closer and tried again, still with the same result. The thought was inconceivable to both of them. How could Lucius Malfoy, powerful wizard that he was, fail something as simple as a memory charm? Narcissa stared at him as he stared at his wand in disbelief, when the owner of the disembodied voice came out of the study. It was a house ghost, the butler probably, given his clothes.

"It would appear, sir, that the lady has her own very good reason for keeping her memory of your rendezvous last night," the ghost said with a smirk.

"What nonsense are you talking, Hilary?" Lucius asked, his anger barely contained.

"Her body will not allow you to remove her memories, as it is already carrying some other proof of what happened."

"Proof? What proof?" Lucius rounded on Narcissa, as if she had deliberately done something to foil him. Her mind reeling with the ghost's words, only one answer came to mind. Her hands absently strayed to her belly. Lucius' eyes followed her movement, and he stared at her, as if the power of his will alone could make it not be true. He narrowed his eyes. "Get rid of it, now!" he demanded, leveling his wand at Narcissa. She crawled backwards as best she could, still trying to protect her abdomen. _Lucius' child. I'm carrying Lucius' child. Gods, you're playing a cruel trick on me. I wanted this, but not all at once, not like this. He's so angry about it..._

Lucius was indeed angry. His wand tip remained fixed on her as he seemed to ruffle through mental files, looking for a spell to do what he wanted.

"Sir," the ghost intervened, "perhaps you are being too hasty. It would seem fate has conspired to grant you what you want."

"What I want?" Lucius exploded and turned back to the ghost. Narcissa let out a deep breath, thankful that he was no longer focused on her. "I don't want any mousy little witch from an unknown family walking around carrying my bastard child!"

"Then see that it is not a bastard, sir," Hilary replied simply.

"What?! You're not actually suggesting that I _marry _this trollop, just because she got herself pregnant?"

"It does require two, sir," the ghost said calmly.

"Don't you get smart with me." Lucius brandished his wand at the butler, though they both knew it would do no harm.

"What difference does it make whom you marry, sir?" Hilary asked. "Would you truly love her, whoever she was? Take the chance you are being given. Appease your family, ensure your inheritance, remove yourself from public scrutiny and the machinations of old wives and their idiotic daughters." 

"Too clever by half, Hilary," Lucius replied, shaking his head. "To think that I, of all people, should have to _settle_, so..." and he glared at the woman still cringing on his floor.

Narcissa suddenly had a deep longing to be anywhere other than Lucius Malfoy's house. This was nothing like anything she had imagined it would be, and she didn't like at all the way it was going. The charming dancer from the night before, the paragon of manliness and power she had loved from afar, had disappeared, the simmering passion he always seemed to contain now having boiled over into anger. It was at that moment that Narcissa knew she would spend the rest of her life living in fear of Lucius Malfoy, and should harbor no hopes for kind words from him.

***

Their wedding was announced and planned in a whirlwind of activity that Narcissa was hard-pressed to remember in years afterward. She vaguely remembered dinners with his parents, socialite parties she had always dreamed of attending, dress fittings, guest lists, and how her friends had fawned over her. What she did remember clearly was Lucius' unwillingness to participate in practically any of it. He would politely bow out of discussions when other people were present, but when Narcissa tried to speak to him alone, he would flatly refuse.

Narcissa's memory of their wedding day, though, was poignantly sharp. The ceremony was held in a grove on the grounds of Malfoy Manor and was everything a girl could have wished for her wedding. Everything was heartbreakingly beautiful and perfect, at least to the guests. The bride herself wanted nothing more than to run away and call it all a bad dream. She whispered her vows, seeming to everyone else that she was simply too overcome with emotion to speak out loud. Lucius, on the other hand, pronounced his vows to her with all the fullness of his rich and silky voice, and Narcissa would have been completely charmed, like every other woman there, had she not been keenly aware of each and every word he spoke, as well as the ones he did not.

Lucius and Narcissa had written their own vows, and Lucius had played a surprisingly large part in the wording of the ceremony itself. If anyone had cared to notice, it was probably the only wedding they would ever witness that was decidedly missing any reference to 'love.' Lucius' vows, though promising to perform the husbandly duties of honoring and providing for his wife, struck Narcissa like a slap to her face. _He's not even going to pretend to love me. He's making sure he doesn't have to._ Lucius Malfoy considered it a matter of his gentleman's honor that he be a man of his word, and so he chose his words carefully whenever he spoke. His wedding was no exception; he wanted to make sure that he would not have to do anything as _ridiculous _as 'loving' his wife.

_And he never has..._

***

Narcissa closed the wedding album and placed it back onto the shelf, just another unmarked leather tome among so many. She looked around the library, smaller than one would expect in so large a house. _It wouldn't be,_ Narcissa thought, _if Lucius would deign to mix his personal books with the rest of ours._ But Narcissa knew that most of the books in Lucius' study were not truly appropriate for public display, especially as he frequently had coworkers from the Ministry over for dinner. _If they only knew what was beneath their feet as they sat at our table... _she mused. The secret compartment in the dining room floor was Lucius' favorite spot for storing his most unsavory possessions, and he reveled in the irony of it.

It bothered Narcissa to have such things in her home, and she would have gone looking for them and had them destroyed, had she not known that Lucius would certainly notice their absence. Why he needed or wanted to own such arcane and dangerous items was something Narcissa was careful never to think about.

The library door opened and through it came the sound of small pattering feet. Narcissa turned around and saw one of the house elves carrying a silver tray with an envelope on it.

"This just came for you, ma'am," the elf said as he held up the tray and blinked at her with large, watery green eyes.

"Thank you, Dobby," Narcissa replied as she took the envelope. The elf nodded and then quickly left the room. Narcissa shook her head. Letters to Malfoy Manor were delivered warily, the house elves always fearing the worst: that their contents would prove the least bit displeasing to the reader.She'd never had a chance to prove to the elves that she wasn't like Lucius, who thought nothing of punishing any bearer of bad news. 

The envelope was addressed in familiar handwriting, and Narcissa smiled as she opened it. 

__

Cissa,

I'm in London this week on business. Goodness, little Draco must be twelve by now, and going to Hogwarts. You're probably going crazy in that big empty house. Come have lunch with me in the Leaky Cauldron. It's been ages since we talked and I want to know everything I've missed.

See you soon,

Rinn

'Ages' didn't hardly seem long enough to describe how long it had been since Narcissa had seen Erinn Whateley. They had known each other long before they attended Hogwarts, and remained friends throughout their school years, even though Erinn had been sorted into Gryffindor. Narcissa had watched, heartbroken, from the Ravenclaw table as her friend and the other Gryffindor first-years were strewn with red and gold streamers and confetti. House alignments proved not too difficult to overcome, though, and they sat together whenever they had double classes. Erinn had been her maid of honor and had held her hand throughout her labor with Draco, as Lucius had refused to. Much to Narcissa's dismay, Erinn had left Britain shortly after Draco's birth, a member of the office staff for the British liaison to the Italian Ministry of Magic. Narcissa had not seen her since, and their letters became fewer and farther between as the years rolled by.

Still smiling, Narcissa made her way down to the kitchen, to inform Hilary and the cook that she would be going out for lunch. She ran back up the stairs to her room and quickly dressed in her favorite burgundy robes. The sleeves belled out from her elbows, and the front laced from her waist up to just below her bustline. She walked to her mirror and turned from side to side to study her reflection. _Twelve years,_ she thought. _Have I changed? _She rearranged the folds of her robes over her belly. _Rinn was always the thin one._ Thirty-five was a long way from twenty-three. Narcissa wondered how much Erinn herself had changed. With a girlish grin, she pulled out her wand, took a deep breath, and Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron. She appeared beside the bar with a pop hardly heard above the chattering of the clientele. 

"Why, hello, Mrs. Malfoy." Tom, the innkeeper, leaned over the bar to greet his new arrival.

"Good day, Tom," she replied. "Is Erinn Whateley lodging here?"

Tom pointed at a table with the dishtowel he held in one hand. "Looks like she was expecting you, too." Narcissa turned to find a lanky brunette witch drumming her fingers on the table. She smiled as she hadn't in many years and started walking toward the table, but didn't get farther than three steps before she heard a shriek from her destination and saw the brunette running toward her.

"Cissa!" the witch exclaimed as she wrapped Narcissa in a hug. "Gods, it's been forever. You look great!"

"Thanks, Rinn," Narcissa replied as she returned her friend's hug. "But what's happened to you? Don't you ever eat?" she asked with a grin. Erinn was as thin as she had been the day they graduated from Hogwarts. "Really, it's disgusting. You're a grown woman and you should have more meat on your bones." Erinn laughed as she walked with Narcissa back to the table.

Narcissa was not short or ugly by any means, and never had been, but next to the gorgeous and tall, willowy form of Erinn, she had always felt rather like a gnome. Erinn's wavy brown hair fell just past her chin and played against the olive skin of her gracefully shaped neck, which flowed downward into a figure envied by most Muggle fashion models. Erinn, for her part, tried to compensate for this by wearing loose robes and slightly baggy Muggle clothing. But Narcissa still noticed glances from the men in the room, directed at her friend's face, _charming as ever._

"Where to start?" Erinn said as they sat down, her brown eyes sparkling and her smile making her face look girlish and adorable. _One shouldn't still be considered 'girlish' and 'adorable' at the age of thirty-five..._ Narcissa mused, only slightly jealous.

"You go first. I'm sure you have far more interesting stories to tell," Narcissa prodded.

"Well, I don't know about interesting, but there certainly are stories," Erinn granted. She proceeded to tell Narcissa about her time in Italy, while Tom brought them kidney pies and butterbeer. She had received several promotions within the department and was currently the personal assistant to the liaison, an aging and rather hopeless wizard named Muller.

"Rinn, that's wonderful!" Narcissa replied. "Congratulations."

"What's not quite so wonderful is that the whole office thinks we've been called back because they're going to reassign him," Erinn said with a frown.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Narcissa raised an eyebrow, confused. "If the position's open, you could have it."

Erinn shook her head. "But we don't know if the staff goes with the position, or Muller himself. If the new liaison comes from within the department, one of us, some or all of the staff will probably stay. But if it's somebody completely new, which I wouldn't put it past the Ministry to do, they'll probably want to bring in their own crew. Which means most of us will be out of jobs."

"Not the best reason to come home," Narcissa agreed.

Erinn gave a half-laugh and shrugged. "I don't know where home is. I've been away so long that England feels foreign, but I haven't been in Italy long enough to really call that home, either."

"I'm sure you'll find some Italian fellow, if you haven't already, and that should speed up the process," Narcissa suggested with a smirk.

"I steer clear of fellows, Cissa, you know that..." Erinn lapsed into uncharacteristic and uncomfortable silence, then emitted a self-deprecating laugh. "I don't have the best judgment, do I?"

Narcissa didn't know what to say. She never did, when this subject came up. Erinn had only really loved one man in her life, a fellow Gryffindor two years younger than she, and a man most decent witches and wizards considered the vilest of betrayers. Sirius Black was languishing in Azkaban, and had been for eleven years. _Almost exactly, this month..._ Narcissa remembered. Erinn had already been in Italy for a year, hoping he might join her, when news of the betrayal of the Potters and the subsequent disappearance of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named reached her. Her letters to Narcissa had been full of hurt and disbelief at first, and then shocked outrage when she discovered that he had not even been given a trial. Looking across the table and seeing the denial and hope still haunting her friend's eyes, she knew that Erinn would never be able to forget him. 

Her years as a gracious hostess in awkward situations served her well in changing the subject. "Did you have plans for the rest of the day?" she asked.

"Not really," Erinn replied, returning from her dark thoughts. "Muller's given us all this first couple of days to get settled back. Get used to speaking English in public again and all that..."

"I have errands to run in Diagon Alley. Would you come with me?" Narcissa looked at her friend, hopeful.

Erinn finally granted her one of the smiles she remembered. "Have I ever said no to shopping with you, Ciss?"

The two women walked to the back of the Leaky Cauldron, and out into the small courtyard behind it. Narcissa took out her wand and tapped the pattern into the bricks on the wall, which then folded themselves neatly into an archway leading to the familiar wizard shopping district.

Narcissa and Erinn walked arm-in-arm through Diagon Alley. They stopped at Honeyduke's extension, a sister store to the one in Hogsmeade, and Narcissa bought Draco a bag of sweets.

"He's twelve now, right?" Erinn asked as they walked out of the store. Narcissa nodded. "They grow up fast, don't they?"

"They do, indeed," Narcissa answered. "Too fast."

"Does he still favor you? He was such a beautiful baby."

"No, he's grown into Lucius, now." _In more ways than just looks._ Upon coming home from his first year at Hogwarts, Narcissa had realized that Draco had become everything she had feared. Perhaps if she hadn't spoiled him, he would have been more conscientious and resourceful, like a Hufflepuff. If she hadn't always protected him, he might have been a brave Gryffindor. He was her son, so he might have been a Ravenclaw. But he was also Lucius' son.

Erinn sensed her mood. "He's in Slytherin, isn't he?"

Narcissa nodded.

"I know you didn't want him to be." Erinn laid a comforting hand on Narcissa's back. "He'll find his own way. It might take him a while, but he will. He has too much of you in him." 

Narcissa smiled. "He's the Seeker for his House team," she said. "I think he's a bit young to be playing Quidditch, but Harry Potter was made Seeker in his first year, and Draco made such a fuss about not being allowed his broom at school that Lucius bought the entire team new Nimbus 2001's for this year."

"How very Slytherin of him," Erinn commented. Narcissa could tell without looking that she was rolling her eyes.

"Speaking of whom, that reminds me," Narcissa stopped walking to change direction, "Lucius' birthday is in a few weeks, and I wanted to buy new robes for his party."

"Robe shopping, too?" Erinn spun around to follow her. "Cissa, you're using up all our fun outings in one day," she pouted.

Narcissa laughed. "Well, I don't know how much longer you're going to be in the country. Better to do it all at once than miss the chance because you get promoted and sent back to Italy."

They walked to Madam Malkin's robe shop. The store witches instantly began fluttering around the two women solicitously. 

"Mrs. Malfoy, how lovely to see you again. How are those robes working for Mister Draco? We still have his measurements, if you wanted more..."

"No, thank you," Narcissa replied. "I'm shopping for myself today."

"Oh, how lovely. And what were you looking for?" The seamstress raised an eyebrow in interest. _Working on commission, no doubt._

"Mr. Malfoy's birthday is at the end of the month, and I'd like some new dress robes."

The seamstress' eyes glittered with excitement. "Oh, ma'am, we have just the thing..." and Narcissa was whisked off to the back of the store. Erinn, with her seemingly careless opinion of clothes (considering the somewhat oversized robe), was obviously seen as a secondary priority. She followed, grinning, and rounded a corner to find Narcissa standing on a small box, swathed in yards of shimmering, silvery gray fabric that was slowly taking the form of an elegant robe. Erinn shook her head.

"That won't do," she said.

"I beg your pardon?" the seamstress asked. Narcissa looked doubtful.

"That color is no good," she answered, stepping closer. "Look at this woman: she has cornflower blue eyes and buttery blonde hair, and you're putting her in gray? She'll lose all her natural color. She needs something more vibrant."

The seamstress witches looked at Erinn askance, but once they realized Narcissa was seriously considering the suggestion, they changed their minds. "Of course, we were just about to..." and the half-formed silver robe lifted off of Narcissa and went flying behind the three-paneled mirror. "What color would you like, ma'am?"

Narcissa looked at Erinn, who simply smiled and sank into a nearby chair. "Blue," she answered. Erinn nodded approval.

"Satin or velvet, ma'am?" one seamstress asked, as the other levitated bolts of fabric from the stacks behind the counter and presented them to Narcissa.

"Both," Erinn answered, fingering the hem of a nearby display.

The seamstress' expression at first was a scathing look, but then she seemed to think about the implication of Erinn's suggestion, and her lips curved into a smile that indicated she was coming to like this interloper and her ideas.

"Yes," Narcissa agreed, "a gown in satin, and the outer robe in velvet."

"As you wish, ma'am."

The satin began wrapping itself around Narcissa and, with only a few suggestions from Erinn, became a simple but very striking gown. It had a fairly decent scoop neckline, and fell in smooth princess seams down to her ankles, with just a slight flaring at her hips. The sleeves were long and slender, with cuffs that buttoned most of the way to her elbows, and came to graceful points on the backs of her hands. The back of the dress was the most striking, though. Narcissa's back was bare to almost her waist, her fair skin bordered elegantly by a swath of the dark royal blue fabric draped from one shoulder to the other, the base of the curve resting in soft folds against the small of her back.

Erinn didn't quite understand why Narcissa had been so particular about the back of her dress: it would be covered by her robe. But it was so much fun to be playing dress-up with Narcissa again, that she didn't mind the eccentricity.

The robe was a deep, midnight blue, which complemented the gown nicely. It was cut wide down the front, to better display the form-fitting gown. It was fitted around the bodice and flared out from her waist, where it was held by a thin cord of silver and gold. Narcissa stood in the finished product and turned in a circle for Erinn to see all of it. "What do you think, Rinn?" she asked with a smile Erinn had not seen in too many years.

"Hmm, it's missing something..." she replied. "The sleeves aren't right. They're too heavy for you." Narcissa turned back to the mirror and lifted her arms to look at the wide bells of the velvet sleeves as Erinn walked over to the counter, ignoring the skeptical glances from the seamstresses, and tapped her wand against her chin as she examined the bolts along the wall. "Ah," she said finally, pointing to one, "_Accio._" The bolt slid itself out of its spot and sailed into Erinn's waiting arms. She brought it back to Narcissa and held out her find. It was a gauzy, white material, embroidered with subtle swirls of gold and silver. "Here, take these sleeves off," she instructed one of the seamstresses, who was startled enough that she obeyed quickly and didn't ask any questions. Erinn then unwrapped some of the material and held it up to Narcissa's shoulder.

"Oh, yes," Narcissa said, seeing what Erinn had in mind. "Large oversleeves of this, open all the way down the front, like the robe itself," she instructed.

"Dye this blue and it'll be perfect," Erinn added.

"They'll look rather like wings," one of the seamstresses said, and it sounded as if she hadn't decided whether that was a good thing or not. 

"Perfect," Narcissa replied, grinning at Erinn. How often as children had they played at being faerie princesses? When the filmy oversleeves were attached to her shoulders, she finally felt like it. A simple charm turned the fabric from white to blue, and the seamstresses and Erinn all stood back to observe their creation.

"Oh, Mrs. Malfoy," one of them cooed, "this is a one-of-a-kind. Would you like us to keep the pattern, or destroy it?" Narcissa doubted very much that they really would destroy the pattern once they were done with her garments, no matter what she said.

"You may keep the design," she answered, "But please don't make another until after the party."

The seamstresses nodded excitedly, and carefully wrapped the gown and robe in tissue and placed them in a box while Narcissa put her burgundy robe back on.

"Of course," she said as she dressed, "you're more than welcome to the party, Rinn. Shall I get to dress _you_ up, now?"

Erinn laughed. "Not this time. I received a gift in Italy from the Japanese liaison, and I've been looking for a chance to wear it. This party should be perfect. Thank you, Ciss."

"You're not going to show me up at my own party, are you? It's in very bad taste to overdress the hostess," Narcissa said as she signed the credit slip to remove the money from her Gringotts account. "Please have this sent to the Manor," she instructed, and the seamstresses nodded and curtseyed her out of the store.

"No one could overdress you in _that_, Cissa," Erinn said on the front steps of the store. "It's incredible, really. Even if they make hundreds more of that design, no one will wear it as well as you."

Narcissa blushed and, to change the subject, said, "So, tell me about this Japanese fellow who buys you dress robes..."

Erinn flashed Narcissa her irresistible smirk, slipped her arm through hers, and began walking down the street again. The two women walked for a few hours more, laughing and gossiping the way they had the first time they walked down this street together, all those years ago.


	3. Til This Night

Author Notes: I'd like you all to know how wonderful my beta, Animagus-Steph, is. She keeps me going by telling me things like, "Sierra, you rock my planet!" when I send her new chapters. She has shared many late nights and even endured physical pain with me (sore backs from sitting at the computer for too long), to bring you this chapter.

~"I ne'er saw true beauty 'til this night." _Romeo and Juliet_, Act I Scene 5~

The weeks between Erinn's arrival and Lucius' party were busy for Narcissa. Arrangements and last-minute changes had to be made with the kitchen staff and the decorators, and every spare house servant was set to making the Manor spotless. The 'week' Erinn was originally in London for had extended to a month, and now seemed almost indefinite. Narcissa refused to let her rent a hotel room for so long, and so Erinn had come to stay at the Manor, much to Lucius' chagrin. He had never approved of Narcissa's friendship with her, and when he saw Erinn dusting the parlor one day like a common servant, his distaste for the 'half-blood Gryffindor' only grew. Narcissa, however, appreciated her company and her help.

The day of the party arrived far too quickly for Narcissa's nerves, but as she did her final surveillance over the house and grounds, she realized everything was quite well in-hand. The table in the dining room was set with a crisp, ivory tablecloth, the family's finest gold-rimmed china and crystal, and elegant antique silverware. The main hall had been cleared for dancing, and the floor glowed from several hours of waxing and polishing. The gardens in the back had been trimmed perfectly to the last detail, with white wrought-iron benches and chairs placed strategically throughout. The marble fountains had been scrubbed until they shone, the lawns freshly clipped, the pebbled paths raked and smoothed.

"Come on," Erinn tugged on Narcissa's arm just after tea, "let's get dressed."

They walked up the stairs to Narcissa's room, where Erinn had left her clothes for the evening. The gift from the Japanese fellow turned out to be none other than a three-layered kimono. The outer layer was a creamy brocade embroidered in burgundy, rose, and gold, and the inner layers were silk of the same colors. Narcissa took her own new robes out of the wardrobe and cast a simple charm to get rid of any wrinkles. The two women helped each other into their dresses, then Erinn sat Narcissa down in the chair in front of her vanity.

"All right, up or down?" she asked, running her slender fingers through Narcissa's hair.

Narcissa thought for a moment as Erinn began twisting sections of her hair and experimentally pulling them back or piling them on top of her head. "Up, but softly," she finally answered, and Erinn nodded and put her wand between her teeth as her hands set to work. Narcissa smiled and relaxed, enjoying the feel of Erinn's nails gently raking her scalp, and the occasional light tugs as she placed a comb or pin. They always did each other's hair for dances or parties, or even simply stress relief, back when they were teenagers. It felt good to be sharing such a simple thing again. Erinn wrapped tendrils of hair around her wand and muttered a charm, and Narcissa's hair was left in perfectly spiraling curls. The better part of an hour later, they both stood in front of Narcissa's mirror, studying their handiwork.

"Do you think he'll be pleased?" Narcissa asked, her hands twitching nervously again.

Erinn looked at her and sighed. "You're still trying to make him love you, aren't you?""No, I just..." Narcissa looked down to play with the buttons on her cuffs, "I just don't want to embarrass him in front of his friends." Erinn nodded knowingly.

"Stop that, you'll pull them right off," she said, taking Narcissa's hands away from the buttons. She squeezed them gently. "You look fabulous tonight, Cissa. And remember, the faerie queen could capture even the most banal prince's heart." 

Narcissa smiled weakly and folded Erinn into a hug. "Thank you, Rinn," she said, "I'm glad you're here."

"Me, too," Erinn replied. "Come on," she said, taking Narcissa's hand again and heading toward the door, "let's charm some Death Eaters back to the light."

"Erinn..." Narcissa gave her a warning look.

"All right, I was only joking. Come on, your adoring public awaits."

The two women walked down the stairs to find several guests already standing about in the main entryway. Narcissa slipped easily into her role as hostess, making the rounds and greeting guests as they arrived, showing them to the chairs around the dance floor in the main hall, and out the rear door to the gardens. The grandfather clock in the parlor struck six, and Hilary began floating throughout the house and into the gardens, informing those he passed that dinner was about to be served.

Narcissa led the group she was standing with into the dining room, where the rest of the guests were already standing around the table and chatting. She searched the room for her husband and found his platinum blonde hair floating slightly above most of the guests. She made her way over to him, and as she got closer discovered that he was talking to Cornelius Fudge. Lucius' dress robe was more like a cape, trimmed in black fur and held at the neck by silver clasps set with emeralds. The shirt he wore underneath was white, with a green silk ascot tucked into a black velvet waistcoat embroidered in dark metallic green. The vest tapered perfectly to his waist, still slender despite his age. _He looks handsome and he knows it. Damn him._ Narcissa took a deep breath and a moment to collect herself. 

"Lucius," she greeted, adopting her 'party face,' the permanent smile that would deny any other emotion to show on her face.

"My dear," he replied as he turned to her. His eyes were appraising but not critical, and Narcissa allowed herself an internal sigh of relief. "You look lovely," he said, but Narcissa recognized it as a necessary compliment when they were in company. He took her hand and kissed her fingers. "Shall we?" He led her to her seat, on his left at the head of the table. 

The other guests had been watching for this sign, and so the men likewise began showing their ladies to their seats and pulling out their chairs. Narcissa knew the seating was done for the sake of politicking. Lucius, apparently, had asked that Erinn be placed at the opposite end of the table from himself and Narcissa, and was obviously far more concerned with flattering the Minister of Magic than his own wife, as Cornelius Fudge sat to Lucius' right, across from Narcissa. Once everyone was settled, Fudge gently tapped his fork against his champagne flute. The table quieted instantly and turned toward him as he stood.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "I am quite pleased to see so many people gathered here to celebrate the birthday of our friend, Lucius Malfoy." Fudge clapped Lucius on the shoulder as a smattering of applause was heard from around the table. "I have known Lucius now for upwards of twenty years..." Fudge's voice faded into the back of Narcissa's mind as she scanned the faces around her table: coworkers from the Ministry, Slytherins from Lucius' Hogwarts years and their wives, and more than a few of his... extracurricular acquaintances. Most of the latter were British, but a good handful or so were international. Igor Karkaroff, the Headmaster of Durmstrang, was sitting next to Erinn, but looking rather sulky at being ignored, because on her other side sat a chap from Italy who was pleased as punch to find someone who spoke his language. The Dark Lord had agents everywhere, in many more countries than were represented at Malfoy Manor that night. Lucius had received letters from America and India the week before, expressing regrets that their senders would not be able to join him in his celebration. Those who were present, though, were more than enough to make Narcissa feel uneasy.

She vaguely noticed Fudge's toast had ended, but stood with her guests as they raised their glasses and drank to Lucius' good health in the coming year. Lucius thanked them all with a rare smile, and beckoned the kitchen staff to bring out dinner. Rebecca, the newly appointed housekeeper, was at the front of the line, carrying a rack of lamb in mint sauce which she set in front of Lucius. He stood to carve it as the servants waited patiently around the rest of the table. The initial cut made, he instructed his guests, "Eat!" and the lamb was whisked back to the kitchen for further carving as the remaining servants placed their trays, bowls, and platters before the waiting guests.

Dinner was a sumptuous feast, indeed, as befitted the grandness of the Malfoy house. The servants kept the table stocked with the various soups, salads, breads, and dishes of lamb, beef, veal, fish, and poultry, as well as wines and champagne. The selection of desserts was just as broad: custards, creams, soufflés, puddings, meringues, crepes, and glazed fruits of all varieties, accompanied by the appropriate liqueurs. An hour or so later, when the traffic of the servants had slowed to a trickle and the sound of silverware clinking against china had been replaced by chattering voices, Lucius stood once again, his mere presence silencing the room immediately.

"I hope dinner was to your liking," he said, and several voices echoed agreement. "My wife has been nearly frantic with worry this past month, organizing this little party for me." Narcissa felt her cheeks get hot as the guests at the table applauded her efforts, and more than a few raised their glasses to her. "So, with that done, I'd like to invite the gentlemen to cigars and brandy in the parlor, and the ladies to a walk about the gardens, or to enjoy the music in the main hall." He nodded to his guests, then turned and lifted Narcissa's hand to his lips before excusing himself.

Chairs scraped back against the hardwood floor as the men helped their wives or companions up. Narcissa noticed the Italian bending himself over Erinn's hand, then Karkaroff laying a hand on his back and steering him, not too kindly, toward the parlor. Most of the men joined Lucius, though a few (those with women new to the social scene), wandered out to the gardens. Lillian Macnair approached her to congratulate her on the dinner, accompanied by several other women. Lillian's husband, Walden, was an executioner for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, and one of Lucius' less savory contacts. It didn't seem to bother Lillian as much as it did Narcissa.

They made their way outside, where the late October air was crisp but pleasant. Several women commented on Narcissa's robes, and swiftly promised to visit Malkin's the next day and order their own. Narcissa wandered back and forth between the hall and the gardens, making small talk with those she passed.

"You seem made for this stuff," Erinn commented, catching Narcissa in a rare moment alone.

"It's a habit I developed quickly," Narcissa replied. "Much as Lucius might seem like a hermit, he does love to make an appearance. And he never does it alone."

"Aww, poor Cissa," Erinn pouted, "has to go to parties and hobnob with rich and powerful wizards..."

"Powerful wizards seldom make good company," Narcissa said under her breath, "They're not known for their social skills." Changing the subject, as there is nothing more suspicious than lowered voices, she asked, "So, how goes your quest?" though she doubted any of the Death Eaters were up for being converted.

"Well, Signore Rossini seems bound and determined to make Florence feel like home for me," Erinn replied with a grin.

"Really?" Narcissa arched an eyebrow. "And how does he mean to do that?"

"_Quello è il mio segreto,_" Erinn said, placing a finger against her lips and flitting away as the men from the parlor began walking down the steps from the house. Lucius quickly joined a small cluster of people, so Narcissa followed suit and worked herself into a circle of unescorted Slytherin women. Most of them had been at her wedding, all false smiles and exaggerated kisses of congratulation for her, and burning glances at Lucius when they thought she wasn't looking. Not much had changed. All of them, at one point or another, had been in relationships with Lucius, of varying degrees. Narcissa didn't really like any of them, and she knew none of them liked her, but they were all too well schooled in social interactions to let a little thing like that ruin a party. _For the most part. _

"Narcissa, darling," one of them cooed, "what fabulous robes, did Lucius buy them for you?" 

"No, Beth," another corrected, "Lucius doesn't like blue, remember?"

"Oh, right," Beth amended, "he always did prefer green." Each woman was none-too-subtly sporting Slytherin green somewhere in her outfit, and smirking triumphantly at Narcissa's faux-pas.

"Dear, I think he wants to talk to you," a third said. Puzzled, Narcissa turned around to find Lucius looking at their group. Once his eyes met hers, though, he quickly turned back to his own conversation. "Oh, I suppose not," the woman corrected. "Of course, it could have been any of us, really. I think you scared him off by looking." Her companions nodded in agreement, then scattered to claw at any single men they could find.

__

Hateful peacocks, Narcissa mentally shot at their backs. She moved on to the next bunch of women, who, after a few moments of chitchat, said again, "I think your husband wants to speak with you." Again, Narcissa turned around to see him watching her, and again, he showed her his back as soon as their eyes met.

"Will you excuse me?" she said to the ladies, who all nodded their heads, perplexed. Narcissa walked over to Lucius. One of the men he was talking to nodded in her direction, and he excused himself to meet her in the middle of the path.

"Yes?" he asked, with his practiced look of unconcern.

"Did you want to speak to me?"

"No, I..." he looked around and saw men leading their ladies back into the house. Narcissa could hear the musicians in the hall through the open windows. "I think we should start the dance," he finished, extending his arm.

Narcissa took it and glided up the steps with him into the house. Several guests were already in the main hall, standing around the dance floor, waiting for their host and hostess. Lucius led her to the very center of the floor, took her right hand in his left, and wrapped his other arm around her back. Narcissa placed her free hand gently on his shoulder, and only had a single moment to breathe before the music began.

She had been dancing with him for so many years; she hardly needed to think of the steps. He led her around the room, spinning her under the very noses of the Slytherin women. He was displaying her, she knew. She could feel it in the tense muscles along his arms, his rigidly set shoulders. This dance was a showpiece. Why, she didn't particularly care. Lucius could keep whatever reasons he had. He was looking at her, but his expression was blank. Cool. Controlled. Like his movements. _Everything's perfectly normal here, thank you_, his body seemed to be saying to the rest of the room. The song ended and he solemnly bowed to Narcissa before their audience flooded the floor for the next dance.

Fudge took up her hand as she was walking out of the throng. "May I?" he asked with a charming grin.

"Of course, Cornelius." She smiled and let him lead her back onto the floor. He was a sweet old man, though an optimist to a fault. Narcissa wondered how he had ever managed in Ministry politics. She had heard Lucius call him a fool on several occasions. Naturally, that was another detail kept locked in a closet for parties. 

"Smashing party, my dear," he said when the song was over. He bowed to her and went off to find some other charming young thing to dance with.

"Mrs. Malfoy," said a deep voice behind her. She turned to find Karkaroff brooding over her shoulder.

"Igor," she greeted.

He brusquely held out his hand. "I don't fancy being in the middle like this. Do you mind?"

Narcissa shook her head and took his hand. They walked to the edge of the dance floor, where Karkaroff finally stopped and took his position. Narcissa placed her hands and let him lead her.

"We didn't expect you'd be able to leave Durmstrang," she said, after a few moments of his stony silence.

"My staff can handle the school for one night," he answered. "I enjoy coming to England for... something pleasant."

"I suppose that's true," she said, mentally cringing to think of the other reasons he would be called to England. The rest of their dance passed in silence, and Karkaroff ended it with a cool "Thank you," before walking back outside.

Narcissa hurried out of the hall before another man could ask her to dance. So many bodies moving had made it quite warm, and her velvet robe was beginning to feel decidedly too thick.

"Is everything all right, ma'am?" one of the kitchen girls asked her as she walked by the dining room.

"Yes, I just got a little warm, dancing in this," she said as she began to untie the cord at her waist. The girl set down the stack of plates she had been carrying and wiped her hands on her apron. She helped Narcissa out of the robe and held it at arm's length.

"I don't want to get it dirty, ma'am." Narcissa looked at the girl's apron and saw only the tiniest smudge of what she guessed was mint sauce.

"Oh, don't worry about that. Could you just see that it's hung up, please?" The girl nodded as Narcissa walked away, noticing out of the corner of her eye that the girl was adoringly stroking the velvet. She headed for the front of the house; going out to the gardens would mean walking right past the main hall, and she didn't want to be asked for another dance until she'd had some time to cool down.

Hilary and a few of the male servants were already waiting by the front door, to bid goodnight and escort out any guests leaving early. They all half-bowed as she approached, and one of them opened the door for her. "Thank you," she said as she stepped across the threshold. They bowed again and closed the door behind her.

She stood for a few moments on the top step, enjoying the feel of the cool air against her now-exposed back. It was quiet on this side of the house. She could just barely hear the music from inside and the laughing and chatter of the guests in the gardens. She breathed in the cool autumn air, looking out over the night-dark yard and seemingly endless lawns. Only tiny lights along the path up to the house provided illumination. The moon was a thin silver crescent and fog already shrouded the farthest of the footlights, making them seem like they led the way to Avalon and the realms of faerie.

__

If I walked into the fog, would I find my way back? Narcissa's thoughts were the echoes of countless Britons across thousands of years. _Would I even want to? They say in Avalon life is a dream, and those who drink from the faerie queen's cup never grow old._ She laughed at herself. I'm _supposed to be the queen, tonight, and win my prince..._ She turned to look back at the great manor house: a beautiful façade that somehow didn't quite contain its own darkness, like the family who had lived there for so many generations. The only mark Narcissa had made on the Manor was the beds of violets on either side of the front steps. The smell reminded her of the first night she had danced with Lucius. She had been foolish to think that she didn't care whether he loved her then or not. She had been foolish to become caught in his spell. Foolish, and yet unable to do anything else, all at the same time. The smell of violets reminded her of fate, destiny, and she took some comfort in knowing that there was some greater plan to her life, whoever's plan that might be. She took another breath of the sweet air, and then headed back inside.

As she stepped through the doorway, Erinn came hurrying up to her. "Oh, there you are. Your husband has been looking for you."

"Looking for me?" Narcissa was puzzled enough to stop. "Why?"

"I don't know," Erinn shrugged. "Karkaroff led you off the dance floor, and Lucius hasn't seen either of you since."

"Igor went into the garden, and I was giving my robe to one of the servants. I stepped out front for some air. What...?" Narcissa's voice trailed off as she realized the conclusion her husband was drawing.

Erinn waggled her eyebrows.

"That's ridiculous," Narcissa shook her head and began walking again. 

"Sweet to know he cares, though, right?" Erinn said as she caught up with her. Narcissa rolled her eyes.

"He just doesn't want me to make a fool out of him in front of his guests," she muttered. 

Her shoes clicked against the floor as she made her way to the main hall, where Lucius was lurking on the edge of the dance floor, waiting for her.

"Where have you been?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

"My robe was getting stifling," she answered calmly. "I had one of the servants hang it up. Why? What's wrong?"

He opened his mouth as if to tell her exactly what he thought was wrong, then seemed to think better of it. "My dear," he said, with his practiced smile, "we have guests to entertain," and once more extended his arm to her. She took it, and was again whisked out onto the dance floor. 

Lucius was holding her closer this time. _More people on the floor, now,_ she automatically reasoned, before she could get caught up in speculations as to why he would want her close. But when she looked up at his face, he didn't present the same calm front from their earlier dance. Something was battling behind his eyes. _Oh, that's it, then. _Her heart sank._ He's jealous and doesn't trust me out of his reach._

Eventually, common courtesy demanded that he allow other gentlemen to cut in, but even as she danced with other men, he was never very far away, and his eyes were always on her. He haunted the corners of her vision and was always just behind her shoulder when she turned around, taking her back as soon as each song ended.

His hand was cool against her back, pressing gently with his fingers or the heel of his hand as they moved in perfect tandem. By the end of too many songs to count, she could feel his heart against her own chest, and her temple rested against his cheek. _Probably far too close for dancing in public._ But it felt good, perhaps almost as if he were really just holding her, and she didn't dare pull away. She heard a small sound from his throat and felt breath against her ear. _Is he smelling my hair?_ The thought seemed so unlike anything Lucius would do that she instantly discarded the possibility. Soon, though, he lowered his face to her neck and inhaled deeply. _Gods,_ she realized, _he _is...

"Is that your birthday present from Draco?" he asked, and she could feel the vibration of his voice against her skin. It disconcerted her so much she nearly didn't understand his question. Perfume. Draco had given her perfume. 

"I believe so, yes." She closed her eyes. _Calm down, Narcissa._

"It's very nice on you." Narcissa's eyes shot open. _A compliment?_ She pulled away enough to look at his face. _Did I step off the porch and wander into the fog, after all? _He was looking back at her with slightly unfocused eyes and one corner of his mouth was lifted in the closest thing to a genuine smile she had seen in many years. She narrowed her eyes.

"Are you drunk, Lucius?" It was the only reasonable explanation for his behavior.

"Not a bit, my dear," he replied, and put his cheek against her head again.

__

Right. Narcissa rested her chin on his shoulder, and tried to keep her mind empty as she finished the last few dances with him. He smelled of pipe smoke, rich and sweet and spicy, but the scent of brandy she was looking for was decidedly absent, and his steps were sure and unwavering. 

With impeccable timing, the last song ended just as the grandfather clock began to strike midnight. The guests applauded the musicians and began meandering off the dance floor to collect their belongings and excuse themselves. Lucius and Narcissa stood at the door to bid goodnight to their guests, the servants who were there earlier fetching robes, coats, wraps, canes, and hats for those who remained. One by one, they kissed Narcissa's cheek and shook Lucius' hand, until there were none of them left. The house felt suddenly very large, and very quiet.

"Well, my dear," Lucius said, turning to her, "that was enjoyable. Thank you for the party." _Thank you, and good night, _she finished mentally, expecting him to walk up the stairs without another word. When he didn't, she realized he must be waiting for her. 

"Happy Birthday, Lucius," she said as she dutifully kissed his cheek. _Just like that. No different from last year, or the year before that... _

He surprised her by saying "Thank you," again. He still didn't head up the stairs, though, so Narcissa waited patiently for whatever else he wanted to say. "Dinner was exceptionally good," he said after an almost uncomfortable pause, "I shall have to congratulate the cook. I suppose, though, that you helped in deciding tonight's menu?" He looked at her intently.

"I did," Narcissa answered, puzzled.

"Yes, excellent," Lucius nodded. Another pause followed. "And I've never seen the gardens so fine."

Was Lucius really having casual conversation with her? "Yes," she said hesitantly, "they did turn out nicely, didn't they?"

"Yes, very." They stood looking at each other for a few more silent moments, then Lucius cleared his throat. "You look lovely tonight, as well." 

Now Narcissa was sure she'd wandered into the faerie fog. Lucius had _never _complimented her appearance. A cool glance with maybe an accompanying 'Hm,' was the best response she would ever expect. But he had just called her lovely. _No, the dress. He thinks the _dress_ is lovely. Don't get carried away,_ she chided herself. He was looking at her almost expectantly, so she finally remembered herself and said, "Thank you," absently fiddling with the material at her side. "I wasn't sure you'd like the blue."

"No, it's... It does something to your eyes..." Lucius trailed off and wrinkled his forehead. 

"Is something wrong?" she asked, wondering if something about the dress made him recall an unpleasant memory.

"No... it's nothing," he replied perhaps too quickly, then gave a frustrated sigh. 

Certain it was her presence that was so unnerving him, Narcissa took a step back. "Good night, Lucius."

He said nothing, but stood there with a look of seeming pain. Narcissa's heart sank to see him in such turmoil. _I wish he'd say something, anything, so I'd know what to do. _She wanted to make him talk to her, but Lucius was not a man who could be made to do anything he didn't want to do. She gave an inward sigh. _Well, if he's not going to say anything, then, I may as well go to bed. Today has been far too long._ She turned to head up the stairs to her room, but Lucius caught her arm and brought her back, right onto his waiting lips.

Narcissa made a noise of protest and struggled at first, out of shock, but the arms around her waist were strong, and he wasn't letting her go. Her heart hammered against her ribs, remembering the last time he had grabbed her like this. _Don't fight, it'll only make it worse, if you fight. _But something was different this time. His hands weren't roaming, and he wasn't trying to steer her up the stairs or into the parlor or his study. _All he's doing is kissing me. Gods, Lucius is kissing me. What's going on here?_ The kiss deepened as her struggles slowly lessened, and it wasn't an angry, bruising kiss. It wasn't demanding. It was like... _Like the first time._ Narcissa smiled at the memory and ignored the confused protestations of her rational mind. Then, like the nineteen-year-old she once was, she melted into his embrace. 

__

Please don't let this be a dream. It must be real. She wanted so desperately to believe what her heart was feeling. _He must,_ she prayed as she felt his lips against hers, _he must feel something, anything. After all these years... _They stopped to breathe what felt like a hundred heartbeats later. 

"What's gotten into you, Lucius?" she whispered into his shoulder. It felt good, so good, to be standing there with him. _Far too good to be true._

"You," he replied simply, and kissed the top of her head.

"Me?" Narcissa pulled away and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, you," he said as he raised a hand to smooth her furrowed brow. His fingers were cool and soft against her skin. "You look..." Lucius cleared his throat, giving Narcissa the impression of a teenage boy on his first date. He looked her in the eyes, and Narcissa stifled a gasp when she saw something in those stormy irises she had not seen for fifteen years, and she thought, as she had then, _Surely, he doesn't intend..._ "May I be with you tonight?" he asked, in the softest voice Narcissa had ever heard him use. 

Narcissa's knees nearly gave way, even as her mind raced to find some other implication for his words. _He can't mean it. It must be something else. _Lucius gently swept her up and began walking toward the staircase. 

"Will you stay with me, tonight?" he asked, even softer than the first time.

Narcissa's head swam as she frantically tried to find a rational explanation for Lucius' actions. A small word tried to surface, but she viciously pushed it back again. _No, Narcissa. Don't get your hopes up. _She looked again at his face. _But could he? Maybe? After all this time? _His expression was open and without guile. She leaned her head against his chest and listened to his heart, pounding furiously. _Can the heart lie? Or is he really feeling what I am? What I've always felt?_ He lowered his head to look at her, and she saw the innocent question in his eyes.

"Yes, Lucius." Her voice was hardly above a whisper but he still heard. His face lit up with the smile she had seen the first time he danced with her, and he kissed her again as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He carried her up the stairs and into his room, and for once, in more than just name, Lucius and Narcissa spent that night as husband and wife. 

**Author's Note: Sorry to those of you who were looking for emotional turmoil and angst, but this is also a love story, so it needed some mush. I'm an incurable romantic, can't you tell?**


	4. The Morning After

**Author notes**: Once again, thanks go to my beta, Steph, for spending too many late nights working with me to get individual paragraphs just right; and apologies to the readers who have waited patiently (or maybe, not-so-patiently) for this chapter. I promise the next one won't take so long.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

Narcissa woke to light hitting her eyelids. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. _Such a lovely dream last night..._ she smiled and stretched her legs, to feel them tangled in silk sheets. Groggily, she rolled over, into her husband's back. _Lucius..._ she smiled again, running her fingers along the red scratches that criss-crossed his skin. _Not a dream, then,_ she happily mused, resisting the urge to giggle with delight. 

She lay there for a few moments, running her fingers through the platinum-blonde hair spread across his pillow. She didn't know what had gotten into him, but she decided she liked it, and quickly prayed that it would stay. She gently kissed the back of his head.

Lucius roused, and turned to give Narcissa a sleepy grin. She smiled back and then kissed him. _Never been able to do _that _before..._

Lucius made a noise and pulled away, his expression more akin to shock than anything else. Narcissa couldn't help but grin at his disorientation. "And a good morning to you, darling," she said, kissing him lightly again. But Lucius still looked confused, and he threw back the covers and practically jumped out of bed.

"Lucius?" Narcissa asked, "what's wrong?"

"I... have to go to work," Lucius answered, and began hurriedly dressing.

Narcissa frowned. "But, dear, it's Saturday."

"I know," he snapped, angrily pulling on a shirt.

Narcissa sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Lucius, what's wrong?" she asked again.

"I need to go," was his only reply as he buttoned his trousers.

Narcissa stood and walked over to him. He was struggling with his ascot when she gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "Please stay," she whispered into his neck. "Stay at home with your wife."

"No," he said quietly but with force.

Narcissa sighed and reached around him for the black silk ribbon on the dresser. "Well, how long do you expect to be gone?" she asked as she tied his hair back.

"I don't know," he answered shortly.

"What's wrong, darling?" Narcissa rubbed his shoulders.

He shrugged her hands away. "Leave me be," he growled as he pulled on his robes.

"All right," Narcissa said, stepping away. "But come home soon. I'll be waiting..." she finished with a smirk.

"Dammit, woman, I said be still!" Lucius yelled. He spun around with his hand raised and caught Narcissa soundly on the cheek.

Narcissa stumbled back and brought a hand up to cover the burning sting. She looked at Lucius in confusion and hurt, but his glare was unremorseful.

"You should not presume your attentions will be desired when I return, madam," he said, pulling on his robes. Narcissa stared at him in shock, but he only pulled once more on the front of his robes, and whisked out of the doorway.

Narcissa numbly tried to sit down on the bed, but missed and sank with a dull thud onto the floor. _Tell me that didn't really just happen,_ she prayed, but the throbbing in her cheek was all too real.

Her clothes were in a pile near the foot of the bed. She pulled on her slip and padded down the hallway to Erinn's room. She knocked on the door, hoping that Erinn hadn't gone home with some wizard she met at the party. _Or what if he stayed here, instead?_ Narcissa suddenly didn't want Erinn to open the door at all, and turned to walk to her own room.

But the door did open, and Erinn stuck her head out and asked, "Cissa?" Narcissa hurried inside.

"Cissa, what's wrong?" Erinn asked as she closed the door. Narcissa slowly turned to face her. Erinn's bleary eyes were suddenly wide awake, and angry. She lunged for her wand on the bedside table, and was about to storm out of the room, but Narcissa's voice stopped her.

"He's gone, Rinn."

Erinn turned back and saw the anguished look on Narcissa's face. She set her wand down and walked over to hug her friend. "What happened?" she asked.

"I don't know," Narcissa replied, and dissolved into tears.

"Shh, come here," Erinn soothed, and led Narcissa to the bed. They both sat down and Narcissa cried into Erinn's shoulder.

"I don't understand," Narcissa mumbled. "How could he... I'm so confused."

"Deep breaths, Cissa," Erinn gently rubbed her back. "Calm down before you try talking about it." Narcissa nodded and sniffled into silence.

When she finally stopped, her whole face was as red as Lucius' handprint on her cheek had been. "Here," Erinn said, pulling a box of tissues off the nightstand and handing it to her.

Narcissa took a handful and wiped her eyes and nose. "Does it still hurt?" Erinn asked, tipping her friend's chin up to look at her cheek.

"Not really," Narcissa replied. "More than anything, I think it just surprised me."

"How did it happen?"

Narcissa shook her head. "Lucius was so different last night. I don't know why. But after the party, he was almost sweet."

"Sweet as in...?" Erinn raised an eyebrow, and Narcissa blushed. Erinn gaped in astonishment. "Are you serious?" she nearly shrieked. Narcissa just nodded. "Well, eventually I will want all the details, of course. But what happened this morning?"

"Well," Narcissa replied, "I suppose he was back to himself. He seemed shocked that I was there, jumped out of bed, and said something about needing to go to work."

"That's utter rubbish," Erinn said dismissively. "You think he'd be able to come up with something better."

"Well, I didn't know what was going on, so I tried to talk him into staying, because I thought something had really changed him. It was like the first time..." Narcissa frowned, "and then he just exploded. I don't think he really meant to hit me," she said hopefully.

Erinn shook her head. "Don't try defending him to me. He's beyond redemption as far as I'm concerned. And don't even defend him to yourself; he doesn't deserve it."

"But he's my husband," Narcissa said.

"Tell him that," Erinn replied, gathering steam. Narcissa looked at her crossly. "I'm serious, Cissa, because it seems he needs reminding. You've been married for how long, fifteen years?"

"Sixteen," Narcissa corrected. "Seventeen in February."

Erinn nodded, "All right, the better part of twenty years, nearly _half his life_, and the only time he's even come close to acting the way he should toward you was for a few hours last night."

"I feel like a birthday present," Narcissa said quietly. "He and Draco are so alike. They'll give about one day's attention, if that, to a new toy, and then promptly forget it exists."

Erinn's anger dissipated and she took her friend's hand. "You're not a new toy, Cissa."

"But I feel like one." Narcissa frowned and looked down at her hands. "I wonder if he treats all the other women like this."

"Oi," Erinn said, lifting Narcissa's face again. "Don't compare yourself to them. They're nothing but harlots, and content to be so, for the attention of a man who isn't worth the time it takes to please him. I've half a mind to say hang it all, change our names, and take you back to Italy with me."

Narcissa looked alarmed. "I thought you were staying here?"

Erinn gave her a sideways grin. "To get myself, and you, away from the likes of Lucius Malfoy, I'd go to a worse place than Italy, let me tell you."

Narcissa returned her smile, weakly. "I could never leave, though."

"Your devotion to Lucius is admirable, Cissa, but completely uncalled-for," Erinn said, crossing her arms.

"It's not just Lucius," Narcissa replied, "I can't leave Draco, either."

"All right, fine," Erinn shrugged. "The least you can do is make sure you're in this house as little as possible."

Narcissa took a deep breath. "What do you propose?"

"You, my dear, need to get a job."

"A job?" Narcissa asked incredulously. "You can't be serious."

"I am." Erinn smiled. "Fudge promised to find me something, and I'm sure with only a little nudging he'll let me bring you in, too."

"And just what kind of job is this going to be?" Narcissa asked.

"I don't know yet." Erinn continued to smile. "I'm expecting an owl about noon. In the meantime, I suggest you take a bath, eat some breakfast, everything will be all right."

Narcissa nodded and let Erinn walk her back to her room, where there was already a house-elf waiting to help with her morning ablutions. Narcissa noted absently that she was rather ignoring the poor creature, as it ran her bath and laid out her towels and robe. She thanked it and dismissed it, not really wanting such attention.

She sank into the lavender-scented water and let the heat soak into her body, as she tried not to think about Lucius. But his face came to her mind and wouldn't go away.

What had happened to him last night? He had said he wasn't drunk, and Narcissa believed him, but what else could explain such odd behavior? The seeming change of heart at the party, the uncharacteristic tenderness afterwards, a side of Lucius she had never seen. And then suddenly back to his old self again this morning.

Narcissa didn't know how long she just lay in the tub, trying to find some explanation for Lucius' behavior, before she heard a soft knock on the door, and a timid voice informed her, "Brunch, ma'am."

"Thank you," Narcissa replied.

Her house-elf stepped past the door. "Shall Maddie help you dress, ma'am?"

"No, thank you," she answered. "Would you please invite Miss Whateley to join me in my room?"

"Miss Whateley is already here, ma'am," the house-elf said with a small bow.

"Oh, thank you," Narcissa replied. "Please tell her I'll be out in a few minutes."

The house-elf nodded and closed the door. Narcissa plunged her head under the water and quickly washed her hair. She stepped out of the tub and wrapped herself in one of the oversized towels. The house-elf had laid her wand on the counter, so she used it to perform a drying charm on her hair, which she twisted into a loose bun and secured with a hat pin. She then dried the rest of herself with the plush towel, tied her bathrobe at the waist and stepped out of the bathroom to eat with Erinn.

Erinn was already sitting in one of the chairs at the small breakfast table in front of Narcissa's window. She, also, had only thrown on a loose robe over her nightgown. "Took you long enough," she said as Narcissa walked over to the table.

"_Some_ people make good hygiene a priority," Narcissa quipped.

"Or they just like the look of pruny fingers and toes," Erinn grinned as she poured Narcissa a cup of tea.

"So," Narcissa said as she sat down, "have you gotten Fudge's letter yet?"

Erinn nodded and held a piece of parchment out to Narcissa. "It sounds pretty interesting." Narcissa read:

_My dear Miss Whateley, _

_I am pleased to have found you a position within the Ministry so quickly. We have a new department, quite an experimental one, which I think you will find most interesting. Because of your background in both the wizarding and Muggle worlds, I am pleased to offer you the position of Assistant Director of our new Muggle and Squib Relations Department._

"Assistant Director? Rinn, that's fabulous!" Narcissa looked up from the letter to see the Cheshire-cat grin on Erinn's face.

"Go ahead and finish it," she said happily.

_The Department is, as I mentioned before, rather on probationary status, and thus is quite small at the moment. But, if successful, as I believe it will be, it is expected to grow rapidly._

_The office is located in Muggle London, and I have enclosed the address and directions. Both Muggles and magical folk are on the staff, and I believe you will find it a most rewarding environment._

_I am, etc.  
__Cornelius Fudge  
__Minister of Magic_

Narcissa put down the letter and looked at Erinn, who was still grinning madly. "Erinn, this is wonderful news!"

Erinn nodded. "Want to be my secretary?"

Narcissa turned up her nose imperiously. "Mrs. Lucius Malfoy, be _your_ secretary?" she said in an exaggerated accent. "That's perfectly ridiculous."

"'Mrs. Lucius Malfoy' sounds like a stuffed-up old hen to me," Erinn replied. "I wouldn't want her, anyway. But I would like my best friend," she said seriously.

"Then you shall have her," Narcissa answered raising her teacup, and Erinn clicked her own cup against it.

Half an hour later, they were both dressed and standing in the parlor. "Ready?" Erinn asked, obviously excited about her imminent promotion. Narcissa nodded and they both pulled out their wands and Disapparated.

They reappeared within the new home of the Muggle and Squib Relations Department. Witches, wizards, and Muggles bustled about, moving furniture and hanging pictures on the walls. Fudge was there as well, supervising and signing the various forms people kept bringing him. He smiled when he saw them. "Ah, Miss Whateley!" he called as he began walking toward them. "And Mrs. Malfoy, what a pleasure!" He bowed obsequiously and kissed her hand.

"Good afternoon, Cornelius," she said with an amused smile.

"Are you here to see Miss Whateley's new department?" he asked. Erinn fairly beamed.

"Actually, I'm here to join it, if I may," Narcissa replied.

Fudge tried and failed to look unsurprised. "Well, yes, of course, my dear. As you wish, of course. Did Mr. Malfoy ask you to come?"

"Not at all," Narcissa shook her head. "I'm actually here at Erinn's request."

"I'd like to hire her as my secretary, if I may," Erinn said.

"Well, yes, certainly," Fudge quickly replied, but his expression was desperately asking,_Why on earth...?_ "I'll have someone who can work this infernal 'lift' take us upstairs to see your offices, if you like."

"Yes, thank you," Erinn answered, as Narcissa continued to smile. "Could he _be_ more patronizing?" she asked after he had bustled off.

"He's worse when Lucius is around," Narcissa answered. "He's always been quite enamored of the family. There's talk he once tried to adopt a daughter, so she could marry Draco."

Erinn laughed. "You're not serious!"

"I have no idea if it's true, but I wouldn't be surprised." Narcissa smiled at Fudge, who was standing with a young man and waving them over to the open lift doors. "Shall we?"

Erinn allowed herself a fleeting mad grin and squeezed Narcissa's fingers. "Yes, let's." They boarded the lift with Fudge, who watched suspiciously as the young man pressed a lighted button that made the metal box rumble and begin to move.

_It's a different kind of magic_, Narcissa told herself. _And a whole new world. _

* * *

Lucius Apparated into his study, poured himself a glass of cognac and fell into his favorite chair. Within moments, Hilary floated in through one of the bookcases. 

"Mrs. Malfoy had said you were working today," the ghost said. "You're home quite early, if you don't mind my saying, sir."

"I never went to work," Lucius said, swirling his drink and making the ice cubes clink against the glass. "Have a seat, Hilary."

Hilary floated over and folded himself into the chair opposite Lucius, where he patiently waited for his master to speak.

"The party went off well, didn't it?" Lucius finally asked.

"Yes, sir. Mrs. Malfoy did quite a good job with the preparations," Hilary answered.

Lucius frowned into his glass. "Why?" he asked quietly.

he ghost was puzzled. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"Why do you think she did it?"

Hilary shrugged. "I couldn't say, sir. But if I were to guess, I would think she wished to impress your friends and associates."

"Yes, that's it," Lucius sighed and took a drink.

"I believe she also wished to impress you, sir," Hilary added, unsure of what his master was wanting to hear.

Apparently, that was not it. Lucius set his glass on the small side table with a loud _thunk_and stood up. Hilary rose, as well, but Lucius waved him back to the chair as he walked over to the fireplace. "Has something happened, sir?" Hilary asked. Those ninnies in the kitchen had been gossiping this morning about Mr. Malfoy carrying his wife upstairs after the party, but Hilary had assumed it was some exaggerated rumor. "Is Mrs. Malfoy well, sir? She seemed quite out-of-sorts this morning."

"Is she here?" Lucius turned back to his butler.

"No, sir," Hilary answered, "she's in town with Miss Whateley."

Lucius growled. "That Gryffindor is a bad influence on her."

If I may say, sir," Hilary hesitated before continuing, "I think it's good that she's associating with a friend of her own. I haven't seen her so happy in a long time, until Miss Whateley arrived."

Lucius returned to his chair. "Do you think she's unhappy?" he asked, once again swirling his ice cubes.

"No, sir, I didn't mean to imply that. I simply meant..." the ghost wondered how to complete his thought, "she seems lonely, ever since Master Draco left for school."

Lucius sipped his drink. "Why did you suggest I marry her?"

Hilary paused. He had been Lucius' personal servant since the man was a small child. He had taught him basic academics, and watched him grow up, through childhood sadness and tantrums, to youthful excitement about going to Hogwarts, to his first confusing relations with women. To preserve the adult Mr. Malfoy's dignity, their relationship required careful handling. "Well," Hilary answered, "the situation called for it, and you were overdue for settling down, sir. She was a lovely girl, and the marriage made your parents so happy."

Lucius smirked into his glass. "Let's try that again, old man."

Hilary finally smiled. Lucius had called him 'old man' when he was young, before maturity had brought the sneer to his mouth and the coldness to his grey eyes, back when his opinion mattered and his master genuinely wished to hear truths. "I had hoped having a family would be a calming influence."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Was I so difficult?"

"Yes, sir," Hilary replied, perhaps too quickly.

"Has it helped?" Lucius smirked, then shook his head, "No, don't answer that." He once again returned to his pensive expression.

Hilary folded his hands. Normally, his master was not one for these brooding silences. "What has happened, sir?"

Lucius sighed. "I think I've lost my mind."

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd think someone had put a spell on me," Lucius replied, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The ghost shook his head. "But who would..."

"It's the dress," Lucius said, standing up. "That damned dress!" He threw his tumbler into the fireplace.

"Sir?" Hilary was confused. He had noticed nothing wrong with Mrs. Malfoy's dress.

Lucius began pacing. "What was she playing at?"

Hilary rose to better watch his master. "I thought her dress suited her quite well," he offered.

"Of course you do," Lucius said, turning to him. "Everyone did. And she knew they would."

"Most men would feel proud when others find their wives attractive," Hilary reminded him.

Lucius nodded, "Well, I did, at that." He knitted his brows. "But she needn't have flaunted herself so."

"Flaunting, sir?" That sounded very unlike Mrs. Malfoy.

"Yes, flaunting," Lucius nearly yelled. "Why else would she wear a dress that color? She knows I don't care for blue..." He turned his back on Hilary and started pacing again.

Hilary watched Lucius' retreating back and realized that his master was very nearly angry. Why should he be so bothered that his wife looked lovely at the party? "Do you think," Hilary was almost embarrassed to ask, "do you think she was trying to make you jealous?"

"Yes, I do," Lucius said vehemently, "Though what good she thought it would do her, I have no idea."

"Perhaps she believed that jealousy might be a sign that you care for her," Hilary suggested.

"Care?" Lucius spun around. "Old man, you know better. Emotion is for the weak. And love is a little girl's daydream."

"Your parents loved each other," Hilary reminded him.

"Yes," Lucius said, "and look what it did to my father. My mother ruled this house and him, and he let her. Perhaps you've forgotten, but I vowed long ago that no woman would ever have such power over me. Love," he snorted. "My father was as foolish as a schoolgirl with love for my mother. Ridiculous."

Hilary sank back into the chair. If he had still possessed a tongue, he would have bitten it. The late Julian Malfoy had never been anything near 'foolish,' though it was true he had given his wife free reign over the household. One didn't need to be in love with her to understand the wisdom of that. Amaranta had, in her youth, displayed a willful and bold personality most young men of the time found exciting and charming. The elder Mrs. Malfoy, though still willful, could better have been described as shrewd and even stifling. Age and maturity had obscured the girl she had been for everyone but her husband, whose besotted heart never heard her sharp tones, saw her lips twist into the sneer now worn by her son, or felt the slightest qualm for granting her every wish.

Lucius looked at his butler. "What are you smiling about?"

"I'm remembering your parents, sir," Hilary replied.

"Hmph." Lucius poured himself another glass and fell into his chair again. "Ridiculous," he muttered, nursing his drink. "A man shouldn't be held so in thrall of his wife."

Hilary realized that his master wasn't necessarily speaking about his parents anymore. Maintaining his composure, he rose from the chair. "Shall I have a late dinner brought to you, sir?" Lucius wordlessly waved him away, and Hilary bowed and floated out through the door. Once out of the room, he allowed himself a small smile. Perhaps there was hope for his master's humanity, after all.

* * *

**Author notes**: All right, there's the "angst" some of you might have been missing with chapter 3. There's a reason it's here and not over at the Astronomy Tower. The Malfoys are complex people and their relationship reflects that. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy writing their story. 


	5. Defiance and Repercussions

**Author's Note:** As always, thanks to my beta, Animagus-Steph, for her wonderful skills at proofreading and ego-boosting. I've noticed there have been a few comments in the reviews that certain details of this story are no longer canon-compliant as of OotP. So, for the flow of this story, I am ignoring the new information provided in that book. Hopefully H-BP won't blow this story even further out of the water come July. Enjoy in the meantime!

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

"Thank you, Mr. Martin," Fudge said to the young man as they all stepped out of the lift.

"You're welcome, sir," Mr. Martin replied.

"Ladies, this is Sean Martin. He will be working with you in this Department. Mr. Martin, this is Miss Erinn Whateley, our new Assistant Director, and Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy."

"Miss Whateley, Mrs. Malfoy," Sean greeted as he shook their hands. He had a friendly smile, and hazel eyes that showed his youthful excitement.

"Would you be so good as to show these ladies around?" Fudge asked him. "I should be getting downstairs. Good day, ladies," he said with a nod to each of them. He stepped back into the lift and looked at the buttons intently. He selected one with a flourish, and the doors closed upon him looking quite pleased with himself.

"Your office is this way, Miss Whateley," Sean said, and walked down the hallway. The women followed him. "This floor has all the administrative offices. Under you, Miss Whateley, we have a wizard named McDowell, and a Muggle woman, Patricia Lloyd Garrett, who head up the Muggle and Squib sections."

"I have to admit, Mr. Martin," Narcissa said, "that I'm not exactly sure what is done here."

"Oh," Sean said, looking surprised. "Well, it's really brilliant. When Muggles have a magical child, they usually don't find out until the child gets a letter from Hogwarts, right? Well, what the Muggle relations side does, is find these families a year or two before the child is to attend Hogwarts, and meet with them in person, to explain the situation. We have folks who can explain some magical theory, and even some history of magic and Hogwarts, so that Muggle parents can feel more comfortable, knowing what their child is becoming involved in.

"The people in Squib relations are here to help Squibs who would rather live as Muggles. They are taught about Muggle history and technology, so they can fit better into their new environment. Basically, the whole Department is here to make the transition from one world to the other easier for those involved."

"That _is_ brilliant," Narcissa agreed as they stopped in front of an open doorway.

"This one is yours, Miss Whateley," Sean said as he gestured inside. "There's not much here, yet. You just let us know how you'd like it done, and we'll have it all fixed up for you."

The women leaned through the doorway and saw there was, indeed, not much there. A single desk and chair sat on light brown carpeting, and a door to the back of the room led to a second office. The windows were undressed, and showed only the side of another grey office building across the street.

"Sorry about the view," Sean shrugged. "The city's not much good for them. You can, of course, have your windows Charmed to show whatever you like."

"They'll do fine, for now," Erinn replied, coming back into the hall. "Who is the Director of this Department?" she asked. "I don't believe Fudge told me."

"Oh, Ambrosius Kendall," Sean answered, waving to the door at the end of the hall. "Don't worry about him. He probably won't be in much, and when he is, he'll probably sit behind his desk all day and bask in his own importance. You'll be the one actually doing things, Miss Whateley. He only wants to sign papers that people put in front of him."

Erinn smiled. "I've dealt with that before."

Sean turned to Narcissa. "Mrs. Malfoy, I hope you won't be offended, but most of us here are half-bloods or Muggle-born. I think you'll be the only Pureblood here," he looked almost embarrassed for her sake. "I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable."

"Why should it make me uncomfortable?" Narcissa asked.

Sean's eyes looked everywhere but at her. "Well, your husband... I've heard... Pardon me, I've never met him, but he seems..." he shook his head. "I'm sorry. What I'm trying to say is: there are certain voices in the Ministry that don't approve of what we're trying to do here."

_To say the least_, Narcissa thought. "There is not much that Mr. Malfoy approves of," she told him, "but I am resolved to disagree with him; this Department has a noble purpose, and I think I shall enjoy being here."

Sean looked relieved, then embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I just assumed... I thought you might be…" He scratched at his neck. "I'm making an ass out of myself, aren't I?"

Narcissa smiled and shook her head. "That's quite all right; it was a fair assumption." Sean grinned awkwardly.

"Well, Mr. Martin," Erinn said, "I think we have some work to do with Mrs. Malfoy."

"With me?" Narcissa asked.

Erinn nodded. "Mm-hmm. You're going to be our first subject."

Sean's smile returned. "I think Patricia is here," he said, "let me go find her," and he walked back down the hall.

"What are you up to?" Narcissa asked Erinn. Her friend just smiled and put a hand on her back.

"We're going to give you a quick course in Muggle studies," she said as she walked Narcissa down the hall to where Sean was speaking to a middle-aged woman.

"Mrs. Malfoy?" the woman asked as they approached.

"Narcissa," she corrected, and held out her hand.

"Patricia Lloyd Garrett," the woman said, giving Narcissa's hand a solid shake. She was shorter than Narcissa, with short curly brown hair that was feathered grey at the temples. Light blue eyes peeked out from behind small metal-rimmed glasses. "My staff isn't all here yet," she said, "but we'll see what we can do with just us, eh?" she looked at Sean and Erinn, who both nodded.

Narcissa was ushered into Patricia's office, where the Muggle woman told her the basic details of the non-magical world, aided by Erinn and Sean, who turned out to be a half-blood, as well. Narcissa decided that 'ball-point pens' were an ingenious creation that some wizard should have come up with long ago, the 'telephone' wasn't so different from the Floo network, and she remained unconvinced that there was nothing magical about 'electricity.' Narcissa enjoyed her time in the Department, but as the day drew on, she realized that soon she would have to return home and face her husband. In addition to whatever had caused his odd behavior that morning, he was likely not to be pleased with her new involvement, just as Sean had surmised.

Erinn caught the look on her face, and squeezed her hand as they walked back to the empty office. "It'll be all right," she whispered. Narcissa only nodded and took a deep breath.

* * *

A house elf was levitating a stack of linens across the Manor's main hall when Narcissa and Erinn appeared with a _pop_. The creature squeaked in surprise but managed a bow. "Good evening, ma'am," it said in a tremulous voice. "Mr. Malfoy didn't know when to expect you, so he's taking his supper in his study. Shall Dobby tell him you've arrived?"

"No, thank you," Narcissa answered. "Miss Whateley and I will eat in the dining room." Dobby bowed again and scuttled off.

"So, what do you think?" Erinn asked as they walked toward the dining room.

"Well, I've said the Department is a brilliant idea," Narcissa said. "I hope it runs as smoothly as everyone thinks it will."

Erinn nodded. "I agree, and I think it will. The staff members we've met so far seem to be capable."

"Yes," Narcissa agreed. "Patricia was very efficient and organized."

"And Sean," Erinn reminded her, "what he may lack in experience, I'm sure he makes up for in enthusiasm."

"He does seem rather young," Narcissa said with a small frown.

Erinn shrugged. "I think that might be a good thing."

Rebecca turned the corner in front of them and dropped a small curtsey. "Good evening, ma'am, Miss Whateley. Shall I take your robes?" Narcissa and Erinn removed their outer robes and handed them to her. Rebecca curtseyed again and left to carry the robes upstairs.

Narcissa and Erinn walked into the dining room, where servants were setting two places at the table. The staff made quick bows or curtseys, and then continued with their work. The women sat down and had just begun enjoying the hot soup when Lucius swept into the room with a dark expression and bent over Narcissa's chair. The servants mumbled polite excuses and scurried back into the kitchen.

"What is this nonsense?" he hissed into her ear as he set a piece of paper on the table in front of her.

_I expected this,_ Narcissa reminded herself. Buying herself a moment, she wiped at her mouth with her napkin. "What nonsense, Lucius?" she asked calmly, and reached for the paper.

_Mr. Malfoy,_

_What a pleasure it was to have your wife come and see our new Muggle and Squib Relations Department today. Miss Whateley, as our new Assistant Director, was expected, but what a lovely surprise when she arrived with Mrs. Malfoy! I am honored to have your family's support in this venture. As you know, the Department will be greatly beneficial to the Muggle families of new Hogwarts students, as well as provide much-needed support for those unfortunate Squibs. It will be an honor to have Mrs. Malfoy on the staff._

_Sincerely,_

_Cornelius Fudge_

"I should have crushed the idea for that department when it was first brought up," Lucius growled. "And now you're involved with it?"

"Yes," Narcissa answered. Lying would only make him angrier once he learned the truth. "I think it is wise to show our support for the Ministry's efforts."

"The Malfoy family does not support decent witches and wizards associating with Muggles and Squibs!" Lucius roared. It was a habit of old wizarding families to look unkindly upon Squibs. Though not as derided as Muggles were, Squibs were still considered 'broken' or otherwise untouchable. "And this department wants to help the families of..." Lucius caught himself, but Erinn still shifted in her seat at what he had almost said. _Mudbloods_. Narcissa knew that, with a Muggle mother, Erinn felt keenly any hint of pureblood snobbery. Narcissa silently thanked her friend for wisely staying quiet. Lucius had hardly noticed, as he continued his diatribe. "Your actions and associations reflect upon me and the family. Have you no conception of what this would do to our reputation? My colleagues could associate us with people like that Arthur Weasley…" his lip curled into a sneer.

"Whose opinion are you worried about?" Narcissa asked, even though she knew. _Your precious Dark Lord has been gone for years, but you and your 'colleagues' still scramble to prove who serves him best._ It was dangerous to bait him like this, but she was not going to allow him to pretend to be respectable when all three of them knew what kind of man he really was. "It seems in our best interest to have the goodwill of Fudge and the Ministry," she said lightly, not giving in to the heavy rumbling of dread in her stomach. This conversation would not end well.

Lucius matched her tone, with a dismissive flick of his wrist. "Goodwill can be obtained without such a ridiculous gesture." He took a deep breath, looking only slightly annoyed. "Well, the situation can be salvaged, at least," he declared. "Tomorrow you will withdraw from your position in the Department. And you," he pointed at Erinn, and finally began to sound as angry as Narcissa knew he must be, "are no longer a guest in this house."

Erinn shot up out of her chair, and Lucius had his wand trained on her faster than Narcissa had ever seen him. Before she could think about what she was doing, Narcissa rose and put a surprisingly steady hand on her husband's wand. "Erinn is _my_ guest, Lucius."

Lucius looked at her hand, and then at her. Anger blazed in his eyes. He grabbed her arm and pulled her out to the hall. Erinn took a step toward them, but Narcissa waved her off. _If you try to stop him, Rinn, he'll kill you._

Halfway to the parlor, Lucius stopped and whipped her around to face him. "How dare you defy me!" he hissed.

Narcissa tried to twist her arm away, but his fingers were locked in a bruising grip. She raised her chin and met his angry glare. She knew she would pay for this cheek, but her heart was pounding and the rush of blood made her feel almost brave. "That Gryffindor has made you willful," Lucius said with disgust as he released her. He turned away.

_You mean, given me a spine?_ Narcissa thought as she rubbed her arm. "That Gryffindor," she said, amazed at how steady her voice was, "is one of the best things in my life."

Lucius spun around and raised his hand, but this time Narcissa didn't flinch away from him. That seemed to catch him off-guard, and he paused. His hand slowly closed into a fist and his lips curled in rage. _Just once_, Narcissa knew. _He'll only hit me once. But this time, once might be enough._ She wanted to fall into the black hole she felt where her stomach had been, and was just about to abandon this show of bravery, when Lucius turned around and lashed out at the first thing within reach.

An irreplaceable porcelain vase fell to the floor, and Lucius' shoes ground the shards into dust as he walked away. Narcissa's heart beat in time with his footsteps as they faded down the hallway, and as his study's door slammed her knees gave way. Her head was swimming so much she hardly noticed the jolt when her hip hit the floor. When Erinn fell to her side, she was shaking.

"Cissa," Erinn said, holding her upright by the shoulders. Narcissa's vision cleared enough for her to focus on her friend, and she smiled. Erinn smiled back. "Did you mean that, Cissa?" she asked.

Narcissa realized that Erinn must have been standing in the doorway the whole time. She nodded; surprised it didn't make her dizzy again. Erinn's smile widened, and she hugged Narcissa. "Thank you," she whispered. "Maybe you should have been a Gryffindor, too."

"Maybe I should have," Narcissa agreed, which made her laugh. _Would I be here now, if I had been?_ she wondered, and the laugh felt stale on her tongue.

"I'm sorry," Erinn said. "I knew he wasn't going to approve. I've put you in a hot kettle, haven't I?"

Narcissa shook her head. "It's all right. I said earlier, there's not much he approves of. A life lived in fear... and all that, right?" She frowned. "But what about you? Where will you go now?"

"I can hire a flat," Erinn replied, "don't worry about me." She looked down the hall now ominously long and empty. "I just hate to leave you alone with him." Narcissa smiled at her friend's concern and let Erinn help her up and back to the dining room, but a voice inside reminded her, _I'm always alone._

* * *

Lucius sat in his high-backed chair, and stared into the fire. _How dare she?_ His wife had never stood up to him before. Where had she suddenly found that kind of courage? He knew it had to be Erinn Whateley. Only a Gryffindor could inspire others to acts of such foolish bravery. He could have killed her tonight, and should have. She was a terrible influence on his wife. Never, in all their years of marriage, had she taken a stand on an opinion contrary to his; or if she had, she'd at least had the sense not to say anything about it. Now here she was, defying him in front of company, taking it upon herself to join up with an enterprise he was solidly against, forsaking the Manor to work as a common laborer again.

_How dare she?_ She had no responsibilities in the world but to this house and the people in it. She should stay here. He should make her stay here. He was her husband, wasn't he – Lord of the Manor? _Why couldn't I make __her obey me?_ He clenched his jaw and a vein throbbed at his temple. What had stopped him from striking her tonight? He'd been as angry at her as he'd ever been, and he'd never quailed before.

_Damn it, Lucius, you're completely unmanned! How could a woman do that to you?_

A soft knock on his door roused him from his thoughts. "Come in," he growled.

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy." It was Rebecca. She came into his field of vision and curtseyed. She smiled at him, too, which was a bit of a shock. None of the servants ever smiled at him. He pulled the corners of his mouth back, which seemed to be enough for her. His thoughts returned to his wife. How had she undone him? Lucius Malfoy had always had a power over women, which no one had ever bothered to fight, but this one... His wife, who, of all women, should bow to his will in everything! He pounded his fist into the arm of his chair, and Rebecca jumped.

"What?" he asked.

"I just was saying that you haven't touched anything, sir," she said as she leaned across him to take his supper tray.

"Indeed I haven't," Lucius growled. She should not defy him, she would not defy him. He would make her do only what he wished. He would make her stay here.

"Stay here?" Rebecca said, and Lucius realized he had spoken aloud. He looked at her, expecting puzzlement or fear, but the brown eyes that met his were full of hope. Hope, and hunger. _Yes,_ his mind pushed, in the first clear thought he'd had since Fudge's message came. Here at least was a woman who wanted to obey him, and she would. Lucius gave her a predatory grin and rose from his chair, and the last sound that was heard from the room was his voice, casting a silencing Charm.


	6. Rolling in Violets

_Ye Olde Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related characters and indicia are copyright J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, Warner Bros, and various and sundry other publishers, none of whom are me._

_Author's Note: I think this is record time for me. This chapter wouldn't have gone nearly as fast without the help of my beta, AnimagusSteph, who is invaluable. Love ya!_

* * *

Narcissa continued to work in the Muggle and Squib Relations Department -- despite Lucius' objections. She grew happier every day she was there, and every evening came home to an unnaturally quiet house. For the first few nights, it had bothered her that Lucius took his dinner in his study and would not even come out to greet her, but she soon grew used to it. She would go days without even seeing him. Those rare occasions when she did, it was a chance encounter in the hallway, or as one of them was coming out of the parlor after Apparating, and neither would ever say anything to the other.

The servants took their cue from their masters, and though they were never a particularly talkative bunch, at least around Narcissa, they tried to be especially quiet as they went about their chores now. It made the house feel even more oppressive, and almost made Narcissa want to scream.

She arrived at the Department every morning in a somber mood, the gloominess of the Manor lingering until she actually started working, when she seemed to miraculously transform. She was _helping people_, for once in her life, and the goodness she felt inside was apparent to everyone she worked with. Several of them marveled at how different she was in person from the cool society matron that rumors painted her to be, and everyone was glad to have her help.

Narcissa was organizing the departmental progress reports for November when she heard a knock at her door. She looked up and saw Sean Martin's boyish smile. "Sean," she greeted, returning his smile, "good morning."

"Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy," he replied.

"Narcissa," she corrected him, as she had every day since they met. "My name is Narcissa."

"I know that," he said, at least not blushing today. "That's why these reminded me of you." He pulled from behind him a small planter box of flowers with long green stems topped by tiny white blossoms.

"Narcissi," she acknowledged with a gracious smile. _Not incredibly clever or original,_ she mused, _but sweet._ "Where did you get them?"

"Well, a neighbor of mine grows them," he answered.

"Sean, you can't go picking flowers from someone else's garden!" Narcissa was amazed he would do such a thing.

"No, no, I didn't," Sean shook his head and finally did blush as he walked into the room. "What I meant was, I see them every day, so I was familiar enough with them that I was able to… well, make these." He set them on her desk and his eyes begged for approval.

Narcissa raised an eyebrow. "Make them?"

Sean rubbed his neck and looked down at his feet. "Well, yeah," he explained, "I tinker with Transfiguration spells and Potions all the time. I like to make things. These were… well, flowers in general are difficult to do correctly." He looked up and gently touched one of the leaves. "It took me a month to get these right," he said softly, obviously pleased with how his creation had turned out.

"A month?" Narcissa asked, hardly believing it. "You've been working on this the whole time I've known you?"

"Well, I started because I wanted to apologize for being an arse that first day I met you." He shrugged and gave her a lopsided grin. "It ended up taking longer than I thought it would to get them right."

Narcissa smiled again. Sean was a good kid, if a bit awkward. "Well, thank you, Sean, that's very sweet. And they smell wonderful." She didn't even have to lean forward to catch the honey-sweet scent.

"That's one of the Potions I used," he explained, obviously pleased that his gift was a success. "Their smell won't fade. And I also made their stems stronger. Normally they're so tall and top-heavy that they need to be supported. But these will stand up on their own."

"You're quite the botanist," she said, suitably impressed.

He shrugged off the compliment. "Not really, I just like to keep working at something until I've got it the way it should be."

Narcissa nodded. "That's an admirable trait."

"Thank you, Mrs…" he ducked his head, "Narcissa."

She smiled. "Thank _you_, Sean, for that."

"Morning, Cissa," Erinn called as she walked through the doorway. "Oh, hullo Sean," she added upon seeing him.

"Good morning, Miss Whateley. Erinn, yes. Sorry, Erinn," he corrected himself before she could.

"You're young, Sean. Why are you so formal?" Erinn asked as she unwound her muffler and hung it on the coat rack beside the door.

He shrugged. "Just raised that way. My parents taught me to always refer to my elders as Mr. or Mrs. Or Miss, of course. Or Ms… or… whatever," he ended up mumbling. He really did tend to trip over his own tongue sometimes.

"We aren't that much older than you, Sean," Narcissa reminded him.

"Elders and authority figures," Sean corrected.

"But you call Ambrosius by his first name," Erinn prodded.

"Well… you two are… special," he finally admitted, though quietly, his face the deepest shade of red either of them had seen from him.

"Why, thank you, Sean," Erinn said with her biggest smile, which did nothing to lessen his blush.

"Tell us more about your parents," Narcissa changed the subject in an attempt to save him. "You don't speak often of them."

"Oh," Sean seemed grateful for the interruption, "well, I'm half-and-half, as you probably know." The extra color left his face as he sank into one of the chairs facing Narcissa, though he still seemed to purposely avoid looking at Erinn as she perched herself on the edge of her friend's desk. Narcissa shot a glare at her back for making Sean feel so uncomfortable. "Mum's a witch and Dad's a Muggle," he explained. "We lived as Muggles until I received my letter for Hogwarts. I guess they didn't want me to know how much I'd be missing if I had turned out to be a Squib. But it all came out when I got my letter, and they gave me the choice. Well, of course, I chose to become a wizard. I loved magic and was always fascinated by it. It took a while, though, for me to learn that elves and faeries and whatnot aren't like they were in Dad's Muggle faerie tales," he laughed, and Narcissa smiled. From what she understood, Muggles had magical creatures completely wrong.

"They live in Devon," Sean continued. "I wanted them to come live in London, but any time I ask, Mum tells me they don't need looking-after yet."

"That's good of you to offer, though," Erinn offered.

"Yeah," he replied, actually smiling now that Erinn had stopped teasing him. "It's the right thing to do, you know? They took care of me for so many years." Narcissa nodded, knowing in her heart that Draco would not feel the same way if the situation were presented to him. "Well," he slapped his knees and stood up, "I should be getting back to work." He shot a grin at Erinn and turned back to Narcissa. "I hope you enjoy the flowers, Narcissa."

She nodded. "I do, Sean. Thank you again." He smiled and waved as he walked out the door.

Erinn slipped off the desk and leaned in to whisper, "He fancies you," as she walked past Narcissa to her office.

"He does not!" Narcissa declared, following her friend. "That would be ridiculous."

"Why so?" Erinn asked, nonchalantly slipping into her chair.

Narcissa raised her chin. "Well, I'm… older," and she winced when she remembered that she had just told Sean their age difference was not so great.

"But you are still attractive, Cissa," Erinn reminded her.

"Then that must be all he sees; he doesn't even know me," Narcissa protested. _You fell in love with Lucius for just that reason,_ the traitorous part of her mind reminded her, _he was handsome and that's all it took._

Erinn shook her head. "Pathetic excuse. You're a good person, and anyone who's seen the way you light up when you're here helping people knows it. What better way to learn about a person's true character than to watch how they treat those around them?" She steepled her fingers and raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Next objection?"

"I am married." It was a weak argument, but of all of them, it should have carried the most weight.

"So's your husband," Erinn replied. "Does that stop women from fawning all over him?" She shook her head, bewildered, "Merlin knows why."

Narcissa's eyes darkened. "I am not Lucius, Rinn."

"I agree," Erinn nodded, "You are a much better person than he is, which is why you deserve to be happy." She put her hands down and leaned over her desk. "And there are many different ways to achieve happiness."

Narcissa crossed her arms in indignation. "If you are suggesting that I…" but Erinn interrupted her.

"Flirt?" she nodded. "Allow yourself to enjoy his attention? Yes, I certainly am suggesting that."

Narcissa couldn't believe what her friend was saying. Responding in kind to Lucius' behavior was foolish and dangerous. He distinctly disliked the tables being turned on him. Besides, "It's inappropriate, Rinn."

"I'm not saying you should _sleep_ with Sean, Cissa," Erinn's tone was frustrated. "But he obviously likes you and wants to make you happy, and I think you should let yourself be open to the possibility."

Narcissa shook her head and tried to lighten the situation. "How do you know it's not you he fancies? He did say that _both_ of us were 'special.' Perhaps being nice to me is supposed to impress you."

Erinn laughed. "Oh, come on. Sean was a Hufflepuff, and I think they're patently incapable of being so convoluted and sneaky. Lucius has had you around too many Slytherins, Cissa."

Narcissa couldn't help but smile at Erinn, but then she turned around and with each step she took back to her desk, the expression fell. She had never known Erinn to be given to flights of fancy, but this business with Sean was just... _It can't possibly be what Rinn thinks it is,_ her mind insisted, and she shook her head and returned to her paperwork. Having her thoughts occupied, she soon found herself able to relax again, with the scent of Sean's flowers in every breath.

* * *

The next morning, Narcissa was walking to the parlor to Apparate to the Department when she saw Rebecca coming out of Lucius' room.

"What are you doing up here?" she asked. At this hour of the morning, all the servants should have been in the kitchen, cleaning up after breakfast, or in other areas of the house doing chores. There was no reason for anyone to be near the family's private rooms -- no reason but one.

"Just giving Mr. Malfoy his breakfast," Rebecca replied innocently, but when she turned to walk away, without so much as a nod or a curtsey, Narcissa noticed several strands of her hair were loose, and the girl actually stopped to throw an impudent smirk over her shoulder.

_That's it,_ Narcissa thought, anger boiling inside her. _Catting around is one thing, but with _servants... She threw open Lucius' door without bothering to knock.

Lucius was still sitting in bed, the covers pulled to his waist but bare-chested, calmly sipping a cup of tea from the breakfast tray Rebecca had, indeed, brought. _I hope it's cold by now,_ Narcissa thought bitterly. _Who knows how long it's been sitting there? _which only made her expression darker.

"I never thought you would sink so low," she growled, which earned her only a raised eyebrow.

"Good morning, my dear," he said, though his smile fell far short of warm. He continued to drink his tea as if nothing were out of order.

"A _servant_, Lucius?" She could have screamed. "In our own house?" She wanted to fly at him. _How _dare_ he?_ His unfaithfulness was nothing new, but never before had he sunk to such depths. Never had it felt so deliberately hurtful.

Lucius refused to meet her tone. "What I do, with whom, and where, is my own concern," he replied calmly.

"Not when it causes servants to act above their place," she countered. "And in the past you've at least kept your... indiscretions away from the house, where they belong. Are you _trying_ to humiliate me?"

"Hardly, my dear," Lucius replied, finally setting down his tea and starting to sound weary of their conversation. "It has nothing to do with you, and is none of your concern."

"None of my concern? Something that's happening in my own house, with _my_ husband, is certainly my concern." She had never felt such an urge to break something.

"Sack her if you like," Lucius said with a dismissive flick of his wrist, "it makes no difference to me." He swung his legs out of bed. "Frankly, my dear, I don't understand why you're so upset. You should be used to this by now." He stood up and started to walk to his bathroom, but Narcissa, at least, was not finished with this conversation. She crossed to him and stopped him with a hand on his chest, perhaps harder than was truly necessary.

"I'm _upset_ because of your serious lack of judgment." She poked a finger into his sternum. "How do you think this looks to the other servants? How will it look to your esteemed 'colleagues' if they find out you've been fraternizing with the help?"

He snatched her hand away. "You dare to speak to me of poor judgment, when you flaunt your involvement with that shameful department every day? When you willingly put yourself in a position subservient to a _half-blood_?"

Narcissa pulled her hand back and lowered her voice. "I have explained to you why I am there," she reminded him.

"And so I will explain something to you," he said, leaning in to whisper, "a man has _needs_."

She shoved him away from her. "You disgust me." She almost wished he had caught something nasty and virulent from that trollop. Lucius threw his head back and laughed.

Narcissa shook her head and looked at him solemnly. "You don't understand, do you? You're nowhere near the man I once thought Lucius Malfoy was. Infidelity is one thing, but this… this is only self-destructive and petty. You aren't at Hogwarts anymore, Lucius." She left his room and closed the door behind her without a backward glance. She stopped just outside long enough to listen for his footsteps, which did not follow her, and she allowed herself to breathe as her thoughts came back together.

_Two months ago I would never have been able to do that,_ she marveled. _Where has this been all my life? _She smiled for a moment, until she remembered her next task. _Now, for our housekeeper…_ she thought as she walked down the stairs. _Sack her if I like, he says? Oh, I certainly shall_, she resolved, and headed to the back of the house. Rebecca was in the garden, and Narcissa couldn't help but wonder if she was waiting for her. She took a deep breath, relaxed her expression, and walked outside.

Rebecca made no move to acknowledge her -- no deference, no curtsey, _certainly_ no greeting -- and watched her approach with eyes that were far too bold. _She wasn't always like this,_ Narcissa remembered._ What has Lucius done?_ Thinking of Lucius raised her ire again, and forceful steps brought her quickly to her housekeeper.

"You," Narcissa said, somehow managing to keep her hands from balling into fists at her sides, "are no longer in the employ of this family."

Anyone else would have quailed, would have bowed obsequiously, begged forgiveness, or accepted with a meek 'yes, ma'am' and fled from her dark mood. But Rebecca, of course, didn't. "You can't sack me," she replied, with that infuriating victorious smirk. "Lucius won't let you."

Narcissa was only slightly amused by her show of bravado. "Oh? And why is that?"

"Because he loves me," Rebecca answered smugly, so certain those words would hurt her. But Narcissa, far from being wounded, could have laughed out loud. This creature obviously did not know her husband.

"Really?" Narcissa crossed her arms. "He's told you that?" _Now, this should be good…_

Rebecca's confident leer faltered. "It doesn't need to be said out loud," she said quickly, and far too defensively to be convincing. "You can see it when he looks at me." Her sneer returned, and Rebecca crossed her own arms. "It's not at all the way he looks at _you_. You're just something he keeps around to show off at parties."

Despite herself, Narcissa was taken aback. Never in all her life had someone spoken to her like this. Well, no one but Lucius. _Damn him for giving her these notions_. "You cheeky strumpet..." she managed through her disbelief.

"You hadn't figured that out?" Rebecca crowed. She was growing more pleased with herself every moment. "He can't stand to be in the same _room_ as you. No wonder you only have one child; he's done his duty and he can't bear to touch you anymore."

"That's enough!" Narcissa yelled, and it was all she could do to keep from pummeling Rebecca into the carefully raked gravel. "You know nothing of this family." Her voice was low but by no means soft.

Rebecca shook her head. "I know all I need to, and it's that you are no threat to me."

"You're delusional," Narcissa said. _How did it come to this?_

"No, you're the one who's delusional," Rebecca pointed an angry finger in her face, "thinking Lucius is in love with you, thinking you're the Lady of this house. Well, _I_ am. _I_ keep this household, _I_ share his bed, _I'm_ his real wife. You're just a brood mare, and a bad one at that."

Narcissa did strike her then, and surprisingly felt no remorse. "And if you think _you_ are anything other than a notch in his bedpost, you are sorely mistaken."

Rebecca still had the audacity to stand her ground. "Lucius will hear of this," she spat.

Narcissa nodded. "Oh, he certainly shall. But he won't care. You see, something I've learned in seventeen years of being Lucius' wife, is that he _doesn't_ care about his playthings. And, believe me, there have been many. Few have lasted longer than a month." Narcissa felt almost certain she knew when this had begun, and so did some goading of her own. "Now, how long have you been playing the harlot for him? About that long?"

Rebecca shrieked and flew at her. She raked her fingernails across Narcissa's cheek and grabbed her hair. Narcissa raised her hands to defend herself, but a voice from behind her shouted, "Enough!" and sparks flew above their heads. Rebecca backed away from her with a shocked and guilty expression, and Narcissa turned to see Lucius standing on the steps to the house. Satisfied, he put his wand down and walked toward them.

"Lucius!" Rebecca cried, and tried to go to him, but he brushed her away. He walked up to Narcissa and wordlessly held out his handkerchief. Her face stung like the devil, but she was almost tempted to refuse out of principle. Then she realized that he was making no attempt to comfort Rebecca. Perhaps a point was being made here. She took the handkerchief as silently as it was offered, and pressed it to her cheek, never taking her eyes off him. Lucius was all outward calm, but Narcissa could see in his eyes that anger was there, simmering just beneath.

_It was supposed to be something you could control, wasn't it?_ she realized. _But you're grasping at straws, Lucius. You can't control the human heart._

"Did you do this?" he asked Rebecca, without turning.

"She wanted to sack me," she said petulantly, "she was saying the most awful things about me." Lucius hummed noncommittally, which was good enough for Rebecca, and she shot a victorious grin at Narcissa over his shoulder. The grin faded, though, when Lucius turned to her.

"You have overstepped your bounds," he said simply. Far too simply: even Rebecca realized things were not going her way.

She leaned into his chest and tried to look pleading and innocent. "Lucius, I..."

"Do not be so informal with me. You have struck your employer, and a witch who is by far your superior." He swept around and headed back toward the house. "You will not be receiving a letter of reference," he tossed back at her, and finished with a shrug. "Perhaps some Muggle family will hire you." Rebecca was too stunned to reply.

_Life isn't always rolling around in violets_, Narcissa thought, and for a moment almost felt sorry for her. She pressed her cheek again to banish any sympathy, and when she spoke, her voice was as cool as Lucius' had ever been, "Be gone within the hour." She followed her husband back to the house, and watched with him as Rebecca shook herself and then ran to the servants' quarters. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"Nothing for it," he replied in that casual tone she hated so much. "She was getting above herself. Servants cannot go about attacking their employers."

_Of course not,_ Narcissa thought, making a point not to look at him. _Nothing to do with me or my wishes, or the fact that for once you were caught in your indiscretion._

Lucius put long fingers under her chin and turned her face to him, studying the lacerations on her cheek. "She should not have done this," he said almost softly. Was that his attempt at an apology?

Narcissa narrowed her eyes. _Not close enough, Lucius, and don't think this is over. _"She should not have thought she _could_."

Lucius pulled his hand away as if she'd burned him. "Are you insinuating this is somehow my fault?"

"It certainly is," Narcissa replied. "The... _favor_ you've shown her has set her apart, and given her these bizarre notions about her place in this household."

"I never granted her liberties," Lucius said.

"Only the liberty to think she was the lady of this house, Lucius." Narcissa tried not to sound as exasperated as she felt. "How did you think a servant would react to such elevation, even if it was only imagined?"

Lucius shrugged dismissively. "Any woman with even moderate intelligence should have been able to see it for what it was," he said.

Narcissa's tone was acid, "Yes, dear, but you never choose your women based on their intelligence, do you?"

He stared daggers at her. He knew it was true and wouldn't dare try to deny it. "I hope the remainder of your day is more pleasant, my dear," he said in icy tones, and stalked away to his study.

Narcissa shook her head and once again headed for the parlor, now much later for work than she wished to be. _Not always violets, indeed._


	7. The Ministry Party

_Author's Note: Another (relatively) fast posting. Hope you guys are enjoying this, 'cause things are heating up! Thanks again to my beta, Animagus-Steph, she's a huge help._

_Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

* * *

The mood in the Malfoy house did not lighten with Rebecca's removal. Lucius was as elusive as ever and Narcissa as determined not to let it get to her. Weeks rolled by and soon it was time for the Ministry's employee Yule Party, the seventeenth she would spend with Lucius.

_If we even go_, she mused as she dressed for work one morning. _He's been in such a mood lately that he might not be up to it. _However, Lucius surprised her by knocking on her door that morning. "Good morning, my dear," he greeted after a slight pause. He was obviously trying to be cordial, but was rather awkward about it.

Perplexed, Narcissa replied carefully, "Good morning, Lucius."

"I hope a week is long enough for you to acquire a suitable dress for the party," he said with practiced casualness, "unless you already have one?"

"No, a week is plenty," Narcissa answered, still a bit confused. "I hadn't thought we would be going, though."

"Of course we are," he responded, still in that flippant tone. "Who would let a silly little domestic… _snag_ get in the way of social obligations?" He turned toward the door. "Oh, and _do_ try to be festive. Your recent mood could perfectly ruin a good party." He swept out without another word.

My _recent mood?_ Narcissa gaped._ 'Silly little domestic snag?' Is that what we have?_ She huffed. Lucius' conceit knew no bounds. _I'll give him festive,_ she decided, and headed off to work.

That evening, she and Erinn went shopping for dresses at Malkin's. The seamstresses were much more enthusiastic about Erinn's presence than they had been two months earlier, and she ended up with a slinky number in burgundy silk that accentuated her slim height.

Narcissa took home a strapless red satin dress whose skirt opened from the belted waist into deep pleats lined with cream. _Festive enough for you, Lucius?_ she wondered as she pulled up her hair the night of the party. She wound a cheerful sprig of holly into her curls and decided he couldn't ask for more.

She frowned as she clasped the ruby choker behind her neck, though. Lucius could be as particular as he liked about _her_ appearance and attitude, but it was _he_ who would set the tone for that evening; she could only follow his lead. _Nothing to do but play the game, Narcissa. _She squared her shoulders. _None of them know anything, and none of them will, so long as I give nothing away. Lucius certainly won't._ She practiced her party smile for the mirror and straightened her pleats one last time before she slipped out of the room.

The soft swishing of her skirt was the only sound as Narcissa swept down the stairs, Lucius watching her every move from the bottom. As expected, he was waiting in black dress robes, though of a slightly different cut from his birthday robes, and this time with gold accents. It seemed he, too, had made concessions to the season. "My dear," he greeted her, as always, and held out his arm.

Narcissa dutifully slid her hand into the bend of his elbow, but the ice in his gaze made her want to run back up the stairs and fetch a wrap. Goosebumps raised along her arms.

"A rather revealing cut for this weather, isn't it?" Lucius commented.

_It has nothing to do with the weather_, she wanted to tell him, but she had decided to be civil tonight. "In a room full of people, I'll be warm enough," she said, and couldn't resist adding, "Besides, it's 'festive.'" Lucius raised an eyebrow at her tone, but nodded silently and led her to the parlor, where they Apparated to the Ministry.

They appeared in a small room just off the Grand Ballroom and could see a throng of people milling about just beyond the doorway. Lucius slipped his wand back into his robes and covered Narcissa's hand on his arm with his own. It would have seemed a rather intimate gesture from an outside point of view, but Narcissa recognized it was meant only to keep her close by. Once again reminding herself to play along, she smiled at Lucius to show him she was ready to do their social 'duty.'

Lucius led her into the fray and was as cordial and even affable as anyone could ask. As they progressed around the room, they stopped to chat with the more important of the Ministry's employees: usually department heads or diplomatic liaisons. Narcissa caught sight of Erinn at one point, but Lucius strategically worked his way around her. Erinn realized what was going on and didn't try to approach them -- she only waved at Narcissa the next time she caught her eye. Narcissa sorely wished to spend the party with Erinn instead of Lucius, but kept her hand on her husband's arm, contenting herself with an acknowledging nod to her friend.

Fudge asked Narcissa to dance when they found their way to him, which Lucius surprisingly granted. He graciously gave him Narcissa's hand, and smiled as they walked onto the dance floor, but she could feel her husband's eyes on her as Cornelius swept her about, and she was sure Lucius didn't hear a word of the prattling of the Minster's escort until their dance was done and her hand returned to his arm.

They continued on their path of hobnobbing and socializing, though no one else asked Narcissa to dance; too intimidated, she supposed, by Lucius' presence. Once they had seen everyone Lucius wished to speak to, he led her onto the dance floor, and she gave an inward sigh of relief. _Ah, finally,_ she thought, moving effortlessly with him, _we'll spend the rest of the party dancing, and then go home. No more of this farce of forced civility._

But Lucius led her back to the sidelines after only one dance, and made no move to return to the floor. Narcissa kicked idly at the hem of her dress as she watched couples flow on and off the dance floor. Time ticked by, but Lucius only remained where he was, making himself a prime target for wizards who believed themselves high enough in the Ministry's hierarchy to approach him. Though never curt or overtly hostile to these _less-than-worthies_, he was less friendly to them than their superiors, and the chats never lasted long.

As each one walked away, Narcissa expected Lucius to take her back to the dance floor to escape their sycophantism. Instead, he only stood there and surveyed the room, seeming to anyone else relaxed and casual, but Narcissa, who knew all his party tricks, could tell he was only biding his time, as she was. She sighed. Lucius was obviously still annoyed, though she couldn't imagine what would be vexing him so. Coming to the party was perhaps a mistake, but it was too late to take it back now. Narcissa joined Lucius in pretending to watch the party, waiting for the night to be over.

"Ah, Lucius," Fudge approached them; "I had hoped you hadn't left yet. I wanted to talk to you about…" Narcissa paid little attention. She liked Cornelius and enjoyed talking to him, but while he was indulging Lucius' vanity, her input would be decidedly unwelcome.

Narcissa felt cool fingers on her shoulder and could have jumped out of her skin. She turned around to reproach whoever it was for giving her such a fright, but found Sean standing there with a finger to his lips. She wrinkled her brow in puzzlement, and he took her hand and mouthed, 'Come on,' nodding toward the dance floor. Narcissa looked back at Lucius, but he was quite involved with his conversation with Fudge. _He won't even know I'm gone,_ she reasoned. She nodded to Sean and they slipped away unnoticed.

Once out of earshot, Sean said, "You looked like you needed rescuing."

Narcissa smiled, "I did, thank you." His concern had lifted her spirits instantly. "You'd make a wonderful knight in shining armor," she assured him.

"Well, you deserve one," he said seriously, for once meeting her eyes.

"Thank you, Sean," Narcissa replied. _Sweet kid_, she thought. _Awkward, but he means well._

"Minister Fudge was a good sport when I asked him to distract your husband," Sean explained. "He agreed that it wasn't right for you to be kept on the sidelines like that."

Narcissa couldn't help but laugh. "What a conspiracy!" She looked back toward Lucius; he was now heatedly expressing some opinion to Fudge, who was nodding in an 'I'll take that under advisement' way, and making small responses at the appropriate times. "Lucius will be cross," she admitted, "but thank you again."

Sean treated her to one of his boyish smiles. "Any time," he replied with a bow, and held out his hand. "Shall we?" Narcissa smiled back and let him pull her in.

Sean wasn't as smooth and confident a dancer as Lucius, but Narcissa managed to follow him and enjoyed herself. She felt light on her feet and as happy as she had been the first night she'd danced with Lucius, and her smile now was no longer forced. Sean spun her out as the song ended and she came back to him laughing and applauding the musicians.

"You are a wonderful dancer, Narcissa," he said.

"Well, thank you," she replied. "I've had lots of practice: almost twenty years of these parties, and Lucius loves to show off. Well, usually..." she trailed off, thoughts of her husband bringing back her gloomy mood.

"Yeah, well..." Sean muttered noncommittally. Narcissa looked down at her skirt and pinched at the pleats, willing the awkward moment to pass. "Hey, look," Sean announced suddenly, and pointed up to a cheerful bunch of mistletoe above their heads.

"Oh, yes," she replied, looking up at it. _Such a funny little plant_. She had never understood why a parasitic fungus was considered festive, and why people associated it with...

Sean planted a sudden kiss on her cheek, and Narcissa almost jumped away. She looked at him with eyes wide in shock, and he blushed. "Happy Christmas, Narcissa," he said simply.

"What?" she asked, her mind refusing to function. Sean had just gone and… kissed her? _The mistletoe_. "Oh," she came somewhat back to her senses. "Yes, Happy Christmas, Sean," she replied, and leaned in to kiss his cheek in return.

A vise-like grip on her left arm brought her up short, and spun her around to face her husband. Lucius' expression was carefully composed -- so carefully that Narcissa could tell he must be truly angry underneath. "We are leaving now," was all he said.

"_Lucius_," Narcissa said, half question and half protest. This was very odd behavior for him to show in public. She tried to wiggle her arm out of his grip, but his fingers only closed even tighter. _Something is very wrong here_, Narcissa realized, and a cold stone of dread settled in her stomach.

Sean noticed her movement, and his eyes narrowed when Lucius did not let her go. _Oh, Sean_, Narcissa pleaded, _you silly boy, this is no time for heroics._ She willed him not to say or do anything, but youthful blood runs hot and fast; Sean raised his chin and looked Lucius straight in the eye. _Dear gods,_ Narcissa prayed. This was going very badly very fast. "Mr. Malfoy," Sean warned in his most serious voice, and extended his hand.

Whether he had been reaching for her or Lucius, Narcissa would never know. Sean's face quickly went pale, and his hand froze halfway to them. Narcissa looked up and saw that Lucius' eyes were finally beginning to show the fury boiling beneath. His fingers twitched against her arm, as if struggling not to let her go -- the fingers of his wand hand. _Oh, sweet Merlin..._ Suddenly, the last thing she wanted Lucius to do was let her go, no matter how bruising his grip.

"Lucius," her voice came out in a whisper. As if only just reminded of her presence, his hand tightened definitively, and she could have sighed in relief, despite the pain.

"Do not presume to speak to me," Lucius warned Sean in a low voice, "And do not ever touch my wife again." Sean stood frozen in place as Lucius walked Narcissa out of the room, and a hush she hadn't noticed was replaced by feverish whispering.

They were out of the ballroom and standing in the main foyer when she tried again to pull her arm free. Surprisingly, Lucius' hand fell away this time. "What in Merlin's name are you doing?" she insisted.

"Not here," Lucius said through gritted teeth, putting a hand on Narcissa's back and leading her toward the Floo fireplaces, which were already lit and blazing merrily. He threw Floo Powder into one and hardly waited for the flames to turn green before roughly shoving her in. "Malfoy Manor," he instructed coldly, and the flames engulfed her.

Narcissa's confusion did not help her swirling head when she emerged from the grand fireplace of the Manor. Even so, she was thankful Lucius had enough presence of mind not to try Apparating in such an agitated state. _He could have splinched us both. _Narcissa shuddered at the thought.

_But_ why _is he so angry_? she puzzled, and did not have long to wait for her answer. Lucius stepped out of the fireplace as unperturbed as if it were only a doorway. _No,_ Narcissa corrected herself, _that's quite the wrong word._ Lucius was _very_ perturbed, but his movements were oddly smooth as he walked right up to her and clasped her shoulders.

"What are you playing at?" he demanded, the necessary decorum from the party having fallen away now that no one was around to watch. Narcissa knew he was still somehow in control, though the heat from his grey-eyed glare felt like it could burn her skin. She tried shrinking away, but he held her fast.

_Walk carefully, Narcissa, _she told herself. She shook her head and used the meek voice that had gotten her out of so many other disagreements, though only half expecting it to work now, "I don't know what you're..."

"Don't play innocent with me!" He shook her. Narcissa could feel the press of his thumbs on her collarbone, and knew it was only precious inches to her windpipe. Lucius had never before threatened her life, but tonight was like nothing she had ever experienced. "Is this supposed to be revenge?" he continued, "Is _he_ the reason you stubbornly refuse to obey me? Do you even really work at that Department, or is it just a convenient excuse for your liaisons?"

The color drained from Narcissa's face. This was worse than she had thought. "Liaisons?" she managed through her disbelief. "Lucius, you think we're..." she couldn't even finish the sentence. It was too absurd to be true, but somehow Lucius believed it.

"Sneaking off behind my back," he said, pressing down on her shoulders, "mooning at each other like a couple of schoolchildren," the pressure increased and his tone was rising, "kissing in front of a room full of people…" Narcissa thought her knees would buckle, but Lucius let her go with a disgusted shove. "You can't think I'd be stupid enough not to realize what's going on."

"We were under mistletoe," she said carefully. She knew Lucius wouldn't believe her, not if he already had his own ideas about the situation, but she had to try. "I would have kissed Fudge if he'd been standing there with me. It's just a silly tradition."

"Yes, the _mistletoe_," Lucius sneered. "Convenient that you danced all the way across the floor to end in precisely that spot: the only bunch of mistletoe in the entire room."

_Nothing I can say will make him believe me_, Narcissa realized with a sinking heart. So she pulled herself up as close to his height as she could and said resolutely, "Lucius, I'm not going to speak to you if you're determined to be so unreasonable," and she turned to leave.

"Do _not_ walk away from me!" Lucius boomed, grabbing her again and whipping her around to face him. She defiantly shoved back at him, having quite enough of this manhandling, but Lucius only sneered at her effort. "You try my patience, woman," he snarled and marched her toward the stairs. Narcissa continued trying to break free, but her writhing only made his grip tighten. "I will feel no remorse if you manage to break your arm in your feeble attempts," he informed her in his most condescending tone. Narcissa knew she would have bruises in the morning, but better that than a broken arm, so she stopped her struggles and was reduced to simply glaring at him as they climbed.

She tripped on the top step, but that crushing grip on her arm kept her up. "You're hurting me," she informed him, _not that he cares._

"I assure you, it could hurt much more," Lucius reminded her. "Do not tempt me." He continued walking and Narcissa felt the slightest relief. She had fallen down those stairs once or twice before, and it would have been all too easy to do so again.

Lucius took her to her room and threw her inside. She bumped against the bed frame, but retained her footing as she rounded on him. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Something I should have done when you first conceived this notion of leaving the Manor and working again," he answered, and snatched Narcissa's wand from the corner of her vanity.

_This is going beyond absurd now_. She glared at him but said evenly, "Give me back my wand, Lucius," holding out her hand.

"So you can Apparate away to your working-class lover?" he sneered, "I think not."

Narcissa was losing her temper with his persistence. "You're being ridiculous," she said, stepping toward him, "Now give me back my wand."

Lucius slipped into a dueling stance there in the doorway, pointing both wands at Narcissa. _This is outrageous!_ "You wouldn't dare," she said confidently, though a not-so-small part of her did fear what her husband was capable of. "You would strike me down, unarmed?"

"Only your word for that," he replied coolly, "so I tell you again, do not tempt me."

Discretion being the better part of valor, Narcissa stayed quiet and crossed her arms. Lucius seemed to relax, and he lowered the wands, though he made no move to return hers. "Why do you vex me?" he demanded, sounding surprisingly more weary than annoyed.

Narcissa only shook her head and replied, "You vex yourself." Lucius hissed and the tip of his wand twitched toward her, but she continued. If Lucius were going to curse her, he would have done so, and she was in no mood to play nicely with him tonight. "I am _not_ carrying on with Sean," she insisted, "and I've done nothing to deserve this jealous rage. This supposed affair is only a figment of your imagination."

"Am I imagining, then," Lucius growled, "that he kissed you in front of a room full of people?"

Narcissa answered, exasperated, "He kissed my _cheek_, Lucius, and for the last time, we were under _mistletoe_. He would never have been brave enough to kiss me otherwise -- even if he'd been so inclined, which I doubt."

Lucius seemed to consider this, and Narcissa hoped he might finally give up his ludicrous accusations, but his tone was still chilly when he spoke again. "You must think I'm a fool," he drawled, "that I don't know other men find you attractive; that I don't see you smile at them and bask in the attention they give you."

"Oh, Lucius," she sighed and shook her head. "I socialize with _your_ contacts, whenever you want me to; and, believe it or not, I seldom even find it enjoyable."

"Lying wench," he insisted, and Narcissa could see the frustration in him. It was nothing, however, compared to her own. _I've had quite enough of _this _nonsense_.

She walked slowly over to him. "I've said already that if you are going to maintain these outrageous accusations, I have nothing further to say to you." Close enough now, she put her hand on the doorknob. "Please leave."

Lucius was taken aback, and sneered down his aristocratic nose at his wife. "You dare to order me in my own house?" he asked.

_You pompous arse_, Narcissa thought. "I'm ordering you in what is also _my_ house, in my own room. I've had enough of your unfounded jealousy, so if that's all you can bring yourself to talk about, I will bid you _good night_," she said, "Come back when you grow up," and she slammed the door in his face.

Narcissa only realized that was a mistake when she remembered that Lucius still had her wand. She grabbed the doorknob again, just in time to hear Lucius casting a sealing charm on her door and setting wards. "Lucius!" she yelled, pounding on the door that would now never open for her, "this is positively barbaric!" but Lucius didn't respond. No doubt he'd cast a silencing charm as well. Narcissa could scream and rant to her heart's content, and he would never be bothered. She gave the knob one more violent jiggle, but the door didn't so much as shake.

_This is what he brought you up here for_, she realized, and sank onto her vanity chair. _You played right into his hands._ Narcissa wanted to scream at herself. _Damn him,_ she thought instead, and stood up and headed for her bathroom and a long, hot soak in the tub. _Impossible man._

Lucius listened to his wife's final attempt to open her door, then turned and headed back to the stairs. _Why does she have to defy me?_ he fumed, _why can't she just _obey? His robes billowed behind him like his own black cloud as he descended. _Damn her,_ he thought as he turned into the hallway that would take him to his study and a tall glass of bourbon. _Impossible woman._


	8. Princess in the Tower

_Author's Note: A very long wait on this one, for which I apologize. Thanks - and credit - go as always to my lovely beta Steph; and my "angry Lucius" muse and quasi-Brit, Alan. This would never have been finished without you two._

* * *

On Monday morning, Narcissa once again tried to open her door, but the handle only made a hollow clicking sound. She sighed. _Same as yesterday_. She walked to her wardrobe and dressed for the day as if nothing were different, sat down at her vanity and took her time arranging her hair. _I have all the time in the world,_ she mused. Her mind was over-active, as she didn't have anyone to talk to, but still she hadn't figured out what had gotten under Lucius' skin.

As if summoned, the one person who would know knocked on her door a second before it was opened. "My dear," Lucius greeted, watching her cautiously from the doorway.

Narcissa only granted him a cool glance without standing, and casually crossed her legs. _Does he think I'm going to attack him?_ she wondered, almost amused by his wariness.

"Are you ready to come out?" he asked. _As if it's as simple as that._

"Are you ready to be civilized?" Narcissa responded, unable to keep the tartness out of her voice.

Supremely unaffected, Lucius blinked at her. "I am always civilized."

"No," she corrected, "hurling unfounded accusations and locking people up is not civilized, Lucius."

He raised an eyebrow and his low voice rumbled, "Nor is flaunting one's infidelity in public."

Narcissa heaved a disgusted sigh as she pushed out of her chair and walked toward him. She could feel a tingle in her skin from the nearness of the ward, but she had no desire to test it. She stopped in front of him, looking directly into his eyes. "You accuse _me_ of 'flaunting infidelity?' You, who are so indiscriminate in your affairs that every witch in Britain knows my shame? You, who sank to cavorting with a _servant_ in our own house, daring me to discover it just to see my response?"

A muscle twitched in Lucius' jaw and his gaze was murder. "I see your blood has not cooled yet," he said evenly. "Perhaps some more time to reflect upon your actions is required. Good day." He flicked his wand and Narcissa was pushed back as her door closed again. She didn't even bother trying the handle this time.

_Why is he doing this?_ she wondered, but no answer came.

A short time later, Maddie appeared with a _snap_, carrying a breakfast tray. "Mrs. Malfoy needs to eat," the creature declared.

"Yes, I do. Thank you." Narcissa tried to smile at her house-elf, but she knew it looked as forced as it felt. Maddie levitated the tray over to her small table and disappeared with another _snap_.

Narcissa sank into one of the chairs and lifted the napkin off the tray. She was surprised to find her breakfast was not merely bread and water. Apparently some of the servants, at least, did not share Lucius' dark mood toward her: the eggs were poached perfectly, the raspberry scones warm and buttery, and the bacon was not too crisp. She began with pleasure, but soon slowed and was taking smaller and smaller bites by the time Hilary floated through her wall.

"Good morning, Hilary," she greeted, though with little feeling.

"Good morning, ma'am," the ghost replied.

Narcissa leaned back from her breakfast. "Have you come to ask me to give up for the sake of peace and harmony?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," Hilary shook his head, "I've actually come to apologize for him."

"Apologize?" she crossed her arms. "Did he send you?"

"No, ma'am," he replied. "In fact, I think he would be quite displeased to learn I had visited you."

"Then I shan't mention it to him," Narcissa said.

"Thank you." Hilary did seem a little more at ease now. "I don't intend to _excuse_ his behavior, ma'am, but I thought I might be able to perhaps explain."

"It won't change anything," Narcissa said.

"No," he agreed, "but… some things should be said."

Narcissa nodded, indicating him to continue.

"Mr. Malfoy does care for you, ma'am," Hilary informed her.

Narcissa forced herself not to snort. "He has an interesting way of showing it."

"He has never felt comfortable having feelings for other people," the ghost explained. "His parents had... an unusual relationship, which was all Lucius knew for most of his life."

Narcissa nodded. "I remember them. Julian was a cold fish to everyone but her - it was obvious he was besotted. But Lucius' mother," she frowned, "I could never tell whether or not Amaranta truly loved him back."

"Oh, she did," the ghost assured her. "They were both madly in love, from the beginning. Lucius, however..." Hilary sighed. "I don't think Lucius ever saw them that way. He thought his father's love was a weakness; that he was a slave to the will of his formidable wife. Lucius wished never to be in that position."

Narcissa nodded again. "Hence his behavior." Lucius' actions were somewhat understandable, given that, but still far from forgivable.

"Yes," Hilary replied. "When he brought you home, I assumed at first that you were only one among so many others, but your situation... I thought having a child would teach Lucius that love is not something to fear."

"It didn't work," Narcissa said sadly.

Hilary seemed to share her sadness, and lowered his head. "Not immediately, no. And in a way I do feel responsible, so I apologize. But lately Lucius has been showing promise."

"Promise?" Narcissa raised an eyebrow. "In a man his age? He needs more than 'promise.'"

Hilary nodded. "True," he granted. "I think lately he has been trying to understand and learn how to express these feelings which he has never had to deal with before. Was he not different to you the evening of his birthday party?"

Narcissa turned away, once again feeling the sting on her cheek. "I've tried to forget that," she said softly.

"Why?" the ghost asked, "Was it not the sign you have been seeking for years?"

"I thought it might be, at the time," she said. _How could I have been so foolish, to let myself believe?_ "But the next day and ever since he's been so... odd." _Not odd at all_,she admitted, _things are back as they were before. The way they always have been._

"He was very confused by his reaction to you that evening," Hilary said. "He thought you might have put a spell on him, or were deliberately trying to make him jealous."

Narcissa was taken aback. Had Lucius gone mad, to think she would do so? "Why would I do such a thing?"

Hilary raised a transparent eyebrow. "Was there not something you wished to happen that night?"

_I wanted him to see me,_ she admitted, _not look through me. I wanted him to be pleased with his party. And maybe, just maybe, I hoped it would actually make him happy, and he'd smile at me again..._ Narcissa shook away the silly romantic thought. "And since he..." she didn't even know the word for what he had done. _Capitulated? Dropped his guard for once?_ "does he think I'm trying it again?"

"He has built a pattern in his mind," Hilary explained. "The last time, he surprised himself by giving in. He is determined now that it will not happen again."

Narcissa sighed. _The one time in his life he 'gave in,' and I hadn't even been trying to make him... But he still blames me. _"So am I to live the rest of my days in this room, where he can pretend I don't exist?" she asked.

Hilary almost looked sheepish. "That seems to be his first reaction, yes. He will undoubtedly reconsider." The ghost sounded more confident than Narcissa felt.

"He hasn't yet," she reminded him.

He bowed his head. "I will speak to him."

"Thank you," Narcissa said, and the ghost rose and floated toward her door.

"He is a difficult man," Hilary said, turning back to her, "but he was not always so. I believe he is changing."

Narcissa shook her head. "I don't have the time to spend hoping that is so."

"If I may say so, ma'am: it seems all you have is time," he reminded her.

"I suppose you're right," Narcissa sighed again. She hadn't felt so trapped in sixteen years.

"Time will benefit him, too, ma'am, you'll see," Hilary assured her, and he floated out again.

_Could Hilary be right?_ She didn't want to forgive Lucius just yet, and tried to stifle the small glimmer of hope that the ghost's words had awakened; it would overwhelm her if she dwelled upon it. She walked to her bed and picked up the book on her night stand. Fiction was her guilty pleasure, and Shahrazad's _1001 Arabian Nights_ had been diverting yesterday, so she opened it to begin again.

* * *

Lucius threw himself into the leather chair in his study, his blood still roiling with fury. _How dare she? How dare she continue to defy me!_ Several times he was on the verge of rising from the chair to go and demand further explanation, but something kept him seated, so he continued to seethe.

A house-elf appeared with a _snap_ holding a breakfast tray. "Dobby was wondering if Master would..." it began in its most subservient voice, but the creature had no chance to get any further.

Lucius rose in a single motion as something he could vent to... no... vent _upon _finally arrived. His wand was in his hand and with a fierce slash, the door to his study slammed open. Trembling, the house-elf knew that it had chosen the worst moment to interrupt the master's thoughts, and it tried to bow obsequiously as it backed toward the doorway.

_It thinks I'm letting it go,_ Lucius realized, and the creature's naiveté made his lip curl in dark amusement. A second slash of Lucius' wand, and the tray with a toasted muffin, the silver jam container and the elegant cup and saucer for tea went flying against the far wall, missing all the books but still making a terrible mess. The creature looked stupidly at the jam dripping down the wall and the shards of porcelain on the floor and then at Lucius, its hands extended as if still holding the tray.

The sight of the horrid little thing and its liquidy eyes infuriated Lucius, and he kicked it toward the doorway. He gained some small satisfaction as the house-elf hit the frame and slumped to the floor, still looking at him with that confused and stupid expression. He closed in upon the stunned form and redirected his kick to send it down the hallway where it collided with a suit of armor. The armor shivered and moved ever so slightly to keep its balance. Lucius once more advanced upon the house-elf and picked it up by its large ears, pulling that twisted ugly face close to his own.

"You will clean up the mess you made," Lucius hissed, calmly but dangerously low, "then you will arrange punishment." He tossed the house-elf against the wall where the armor had been just moments before. The suit had seen its master's temper and was in no mood itself to be disassembled.

"And then," Lucius' voice was cold and deadly, "I shall arrange a more _suitable _punishment. You have five minutes." He turned on his heel and stalked back towards his study.

The exercise had done him good. Now he could clearly think his bloody thoughts again instead of wallowing in incoherent fury. _I must remember to do this again sometime,_ Lucius thought as he shut the door of his study and turned over the hour glass on his desk. "Five... no, _four _minutes," he snapped at it. The emerald sand obediently lowered itself to the four minute level and began quietly hissing through to the bottom bulb.

* * *

In London, the tiny white flowers on Narcissa's desk were blooming cheerfully over a growing pile of paperwork. Erinn waited until noon and, when Narcissa still hadn't appeared, she poked her head out into the hallway. Sean was about halfway down, and she called to him.

"Sean, are you busy?" she asked. He turned around, looking a little startled and almost... lost. _Daydreaming, probably,_ she thought. "Could you come help me with Narcissa's papers? It looks like she won't be in today."

"Yes, of course," he replied, and smiled at her as if he'd been cheerful all day.

"Thanks so much," she said. He followed her into the office and caught on quickly to which papers Erinn needed to approve and sign, and which were simply to be filed. They shuffled the applications, forms, and reports in silence. To ask each other if they had enjoyed the party, though polite, would have been pointless.

They both looked up at every sound of footsteps outside the doorway, but none ever entered. Erinn sighed, her nose filling with the scent of Sean's flowers. The soft fragrance really did remind her of Narcissa, and she hoped her friend was all right.

"You don't think he did anything to her, do you?" Sean finally asked, the concern in his voice reflected in his eyes.

Erinn looked at him and had to stifle her own concern to answer, "Nothing too drastic, no."

Apparently, that wasn't a good enough response for Sean. "Then why isn't she here?" he asked emphatically. "He could have hurt her!" He looked ready to charge off and challenge Lucius to a duel.

Erinn sighed. She did not need his hysterics on top of her own worries. "Look, Sean," she began, more terse than she would normally be, "Narcissa and Lucius have their disagreements, and it's none of anyone else's business." _Otherwise I'd be over there right now, giving Mr. High-and-Mighty a piece of my mind._ "They'll work through them," she assured him. "It might take a while, because Lucius is a stubborn prat, but Cissa will be all right."

Sean looked dejected and aimlessly straightened the stack in front of him. "It's my fault," he said quietly.

Erinn softened. "How do you figure?"

"Well, when I kissed her..." he said, "that's when he got angry."

Erinn shook her head. "Lucius is a brute, and it's not your fault he got so angry." She raised an eyebrow, "But you probably shouldn't go around dancing with and kissing other men's wives."

Sean blushed. "It was... we were under mistletoe. I thought it would be all right. Spirit of the season, and all that..." he mumbled into silence, but then looked up with angry eyes. "And _he_ wasn't dancing with her. She looked so sad. It wasn't right."

"That may be, Sean," she said, "but it's not your place to interfere."

Sean almost said something, then closed his mouth and looked petulant. "I suppose you're right."

"Narcissa will be fine, Sean." Erinn reached over and squeezed his forearm. "I'm worried about her, too, but there's nothing we can do."

Sean just nodded, still frowning. He sullenly helped her finish the papers, and mumbled "goodbye" to her as he stood and walked toward the door.

"She deserves someone who would..." he said from the doorway, and seemed to search for the right word. "Someone who would honor her."

"I know she does, Sean," Erinn replied. He nodded again and waved as he turned down the hallway. Erinn shook her head. _Chivalry is dead, kid,_ she thought, _and men like Lucius Malfoy are the proof._

* * *

That evening, Narcissa sat at her window, gazing out over the manor's grounds as the sun set, her book lying forgotten at her side. A small _snap_ announced Maddie's arrival with her supper tray and pulled her back to reality. "Thank you," she said as she pulled out one of the chairs and sat down at her table, but the creature remained, wringing her hands and looking up at her with those big, glassy eyes.  
"Perhaps Mrs. Malfoy would like to use her napkin," Maddie said.

_My napkin?_ Narcissa wondered, and picked up the neatly-folded linen. Beneath it, only just poking out from under her plate, was the corner of an envelope. Curious, she pulled it out and saw it was addressed to her, in familiar handwriting. _Rinn_. She turned to Maddie. "How...?"

"The ghost told Maddie when it arrived," the elf replied. "Mr. Malfoy doesn't know. Maddie will have to punish herself for keeping secrets, but Mrs. Malfoy has always been kind. Maddie does not require punishment as often as some others."

"Thank you," Narcissa said, and although they both knew there was a hot iron waiting for her, Maddie smiled as she disappeared with another _snap_.

Narcissa turned back to the contraband envelope. Lucius had not said outright that she could not send or receive letters, but it was a fine distinction to draw and she knew he would still be very displeased if he learned of it. Even realizing what a dangerous gesture it was, though, Narcissa was glad her friend had made it. She leaned back in her chair and broke the seal.

Inside was a note written in the same hand as the envelope: letters that were tall and slender like Erinn herself: _There is a world outside, and it's waiting for you._

Narcissa tipped the envelope upside down and a tiny white flower fell out. _Like the ones on my desk_, she thought with a smile, and gently closed her fingers around the delicate blossom. She felt a tugging behind her navel, and the world began to spin. She tried to drop the flower, but she couldn't pull her fingers away. The floor fell away from her feet and her room dissolved into a maelstrom of color. Narcissa closed her eyes to stave off the feeling of nausea that threatened to wash over her, and then suddenly the floor was back, slamming into her hip and shoulder.

She pushed herself up and looked around. _This isn't Rinn's flat,_ she realized. The room was dimly lit, and there were flowers everywhere. "Rinn?" she called out. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she recognized that all the flowers around her were narcissi. Her brow wrinkled in confusion and a niggling worry set into her stomach. "Sean?" she called, much more hesitantly, and began walking toward the door.

She nearly collided with him as he was coming in, carrying a mismatched tea service. He smiled brightly at her, seeming not to notice her confusion. "Ah, you're here," he said, quickly moving past her to set the tray on the coffee table between two of the flower pots.

"Where is 'here'?" she asked.

"Home," Sean replied simply, still smiling. "Please, come sit down." He lowered himself to the sofa and began pouring two cups of tea.  
The niggling worry in Narcissa's stomach turned into a block of ice. _He can't..._ she thought, but suddenly all her memories of Sean were cast in a new light; the flowers, the dance, mistletoe, confronting Lucius... 'You'd make a wonderful knight in shining armor,' she had told him. _'You deserve one.'_ His words rang in her ears now.

"What's going on?" she asked, hoping that her worry was unfounded, that her dark suspicion was simply a result of her emotional tumult over the past few days.

Sean looked up at her. "Well, I'm rescuing you, of course."

The room whirled around Narcissa, but this time it was no Portkey. _Kidnapping me,_ her mind corrected. _He __does__ think he's a knight in shining armor, and this is all part of some fairy tale._ Her knees buckled and the next thing she knew, Sean was kneeling next to her on the floor, pulling her into his arms and brushing her hair away from her face with fingers that were gentle but so very _wrong_.

"Shh, sweetheart," he whispered into her ear. "You're safe now. You don't ever have to go back to him. I'm going to take care of you."

Narcissa pushed away from him. "Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"Surely you must know by now," he replied, and an anguished cry started building in Narcissa's chest. Sean took her face in his hands again. His words were soft but Narcissa though they could shatter the world: "I love you."

And he kissed her.


End file.
